


Out of reach

by Lehenne



Series: All Systems Compromised [4]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Case Fic, Connor & Upgraded Connor | RK900 are Siblings, CyberLife (Detroit: Become Human) is Terrible, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Good Parent Hank Anderson, Post-Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Three Years Later, android body horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:15:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 40,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26732722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lehenne/pseuds/Lehenne
Summary: Connor had been getting better. Unfortunately, entropy decided otherwise.Hank, backed by the FBI, needs to look for him again.But is there more to this seemingly random incident ?
Relationships: Hank Anderson & Jeffrey Fowler, Hank Anderson & Original Male Character(s), Hank Anderson & Sumo, Hank Anderson & Upgraded Connor | RK900, Upgraded Connor | RK900 & Gavin Reed
Series: All Systems Compromised [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1863667
Comments: 75
Kudos: 102





	1. A huge fucking mess

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's part three of the series, it still follows directly behind part two's ending. Don't know how long it'll be, but I have the whole thing pretty much planned out :)
> 
> Stay tuned for more ;)

“I'm sorry, but...” A technician came to say solemnly, hands crossed in front of him, expression somber. “There's nothing we can do-” But Hank wasn't listening. It's not that he didn't care; Of course he cared. His son had been destroyed beyond repair, his brain melted for some fucking reason. But he was also ninety percent sure Connor's memories were safe in his cloud thing. It's not that Connor wasn't dead, because he was, and if the guy that had shot him hadn't been killed by Officer Blake, Hank would have done it himself. But there was a chance Connor wasn't completely lost to him.

So, yeah, Hank waved the guy off, made a point of not looking back toward- Toward the corpse of his son, because if he did, even knowing what he knew, he'd probably have a nervous breakdown. He led Sumo and Richard, still stunned, into the precinct where Officer Blake was being chewed on by Jeffrey.

“I don't know what happened, Captain,” the rookie cop faltered, his voice wavering a bit. Oh yeah, the guy had killed a disarmed suspect in front of the press. “I was- I was reaching for my taser, I swear !” Honestly, Hank would give the guy a medal if he was in charge.

“How. In the everloving fuck. Did you manage to mix them up ?!” Jeffrey roared in consternation, a vein throbbing threateningly on his temple. He was about to keep screaming, but then he noticed Hank. He took a deep breath, waved Blake off. “Hank,” he sighed tiredly. “I'm so sorr-”

“No, wait,” Hank interrupted, coming closer. “I don't care about that right now.” Jeff frowned and opened his mouth, but Hank plowed forward. “Connor's alive, okay ?”

“Hank-”

“No, no, I know how that sounds, but he's got this backup system, he's probably uploaded in the next body somewhere in CyberLife's lab right now-”

“Hank !” Jeffrey yelled. “Hank, settle down. You've just watched him die, just- Just breathe for a second. Sit down, for God's sake, you're shaking like a leaf.” They didn't have time for that, for fuck's sake, Connor was somewhere-

For some fucking reason, Hank sat down. Maybe because his legs felt like jello, or because his chest hurt like a bitch. He didn't dare close his eyes; If he did, Connor's lifeless body, his destroyed neck, the thirium splattered everywhere came back with a vengeance at the forefront of his mind. He was alive somewhere, he kept repeating to himself. It wasn't over. It couldn't be.

Hank took a deep breath, dragged his trembling hands across his face, and exhaled shakily. Jeffrey was giving orders in a low whisper, and the precinct moved around Hank while he rode the tail-end of his adrenaline high. When he looked up again, he searched for Rich and Sumo first; Rich stood motionless on his right, eyes lost in the distance, red LED slowly spinning. Sumo sat by his side, slouched against his leg. A steaming coffee had appeared on the desk and he took a big gulp of it, not bothering to wonder if it was for him or not. Who fucking cared. Hank watched three guys of Internal Affairs make their way into interrogation room n°2, where Officer Blake probably waited for them.

“Rich ?” Hank called when the shaking finally subsided. “Y'alright, son ?” He didn't react right away, then turned to him with an anguished frown. Yeah, Hank felt that.

“Hank. How will we find him ? Every CyberLife facility has been searched to the bone already.”

“Then we'll look again,” Hank answered. He knew that; Markus had kept him updated. But he couldn't just give up like that. “He has to be somewhere.” He had to believe it.

Jeff came back and called them into his office. They all sat in silence, and nobody said anything for a while. Jeff waved for someone to come in. When Hank looked, it was an FBI agent; Young, dressed in a cheap suit.

“You said he might still be alive ?” Jeff asked when the door closed behind the guy, not exactly convinced, but not exactly disbelieving either. “Tell me how again, because right now it sounds like you've finally lost your marbles.”

“Okay, alright... Fair enough,” Hank sighed into his coffee, running his hand across his face again. He stunk of thirium, he noticed. “His model has this...” He started explaining, waving around vaguely, “backup system, alright ? His memories are stored in an external server thingie, so if he dies... If his body gets destroyed, his memories are uploaded in a new one.”

“What the fuck ?” Jeff asked, understandably.

“It was a prototype feature,” Richard said, his voice subdued, his tone flat. “Part of what made the RK800 whole project illegal. It was supposed to prevent loss of data on sensitive cases and... Other missions.” Jeff narrowed his eyes, joined his hands on his desk.

“Do I want to know what kind of other missions ?”

“Does it fucking matter ? And are you gonna tell me what the fuck is that FBI guy doing here ?” Jeff narrowed his eyes harder, barely glanced at the guy who hadn't said anything, thank fuck.

“Not really,” he sighed after a beat. “If what you're saying is true, we have to find him.” Of fucking course they had to find him. “That's why we'll file a missing person report.”

“What the fuck ? You're not taking me off that case-”

“Of course I'm taking you off that case, you're legally his family, d'you really think I can go around that ?”

“Jeff-”

“Besides, you both need a few days off. Connor might not be lost forever, but he still died in your arms.”

“You can't-”

“Listen,” Jeff raised his voice, before his expression softened again. “I know you won't back down. I know you'll do something stupid behind everyone's back if I put you on forced leave.” Jeff inhaled deeply, dragged his hand tiredly across his face. “I can't let you on the case as an investigator. But you're still the official human liaison with the android nation. Agent Norman Jayden over there's gonna need your help,” he sighed, pointing at the FBI guy, still planted in the back. Hank turned to him.

“Why would the FBI take on a missing person case ?” Hank asked, staring at him menacingly. To his credit, the guy didn't seem to get offended.

“We've been investigating CyberLife's shady business since its dismantling,” he explained. “Originally, I was here to listen to Connor's statement, and potentially ask a few questions about his time in development; The whole thing is a huge illegal mess, and we've hit a dead-end in our investigation.”

“Oh, so you just want to find him for your investigation ?” Hank spat in anger. Sue him, he'd had a long day. The guy pursed his lips, sighed lightly.

“Maybe. Do my motivations matter if I find him ?” For a hard second, Hank wanted to tell the guy to go fuck himself, to get out there and start looking for Connor, to fucking do something for fuck's sake. Hank closed his eyes, took a big gulp of air, held it, released it. It killed him to admit it, but the guy was right; It didn't matter, why he wanted to find Connor. With the resources of the FBI he brought to the table, Hank just couldn't let this opportunity pass. But there was one last thing that rubbed him the wrong way.

“Where the fuck were you when Connor was held captive by Andronikov ?” The agent didn't answer right away. Depending on the answer, Hank wasn't completely sure he wouldn't punch him in the face.

“The bureau confiscated a couple of his external plates that were sold on the black market, I... Actually brought them with me, I cleared them for restitution. Honestly ? We thought he was long dead and sold in pieces somewhere.”

Christ. Bile rose at the back of Hank's throat, a lump the size of a basketball settled on his chest. His hands were shaking again, he noticed absently. God, he'd believed that too. He'd made his peace with Connor's death before he'd rescued himself. Hank'd abandoned him, left him to rot in Andronikov's claws. Tears ran down his cheeks freely, and a numb buzzing rang loud in his ears.

“-K ? Hank ? You hear me ?” He did, nodded, but Jeff's voice sounded muted, far away, coming from inside a shoebox. “Back with us ?” Hank nodded again, unable to speak. “Listen man. I know you want to get out there and look for him right this second. But please listen to me for once, and go home. Take a long hot bath before you get thirium poisoning. Call your shrink, settle down. Agent Jayden will start looking, you're not betraying Connor by taking a day off. Okay ?” God. Since when was Jeff the voice of reason ? Hank hated it, hated that he made sense, hated that he'd listen to him. “And before you tell me to fuck off, if you don't do it for yourself, do it for Richard, for Christ's sake, the kid hasn't moved an inch since he sat down.” Hank turned to look at his son. True, the kid seemed out of it, almost like he'd put himself in idle mode. Fuck, Hank was a selfish asshole.

“Rich,” he said, reaching for his hand, clamped around his knee; The other he had around Sumo's collar, the dog's head slumped on his lap. “C'mon, Rich,” Hank said when Richard's eyes focused back into the room, then slowly turned to look at Hank. “We're going home.” He blinked once. Twice.

“Alright,” he finally said.

* * *

_“Prototype RK800 'Connor Anderson', ex-Deviant Hunter, recently arrested for having helped Zlatko Andronikov kidnap and kill dozens of androids for the past two and a half years, was shot and destroyed before he could give a statement this afternoon on the doorsteps of the police precinct.”_

_Footage from a dozen different angles showed a man, visibly agitated, breakthrough a police barricade, shove a white-haired man out of his way, and point a gun at an android flanked by a big dog. The android tried to deviate the shot, but thirium splashed everywhere as he was shot in the neck and fell to the ground._

_“The shooter was apprehended and subsequently killed, and I cite, 'by mistake', by an officer of the law.”_

_Another angle showed a policeman, officer Blake, the text underneath the screen said, apprehending the shooter and shoot him for no apparent reason._

_“Did the officer take his revenge for the death of the RK800 ? Let's not forget the android was a member of the police force before associating with Andronikov. And what to think of the Lieutenant of police Henry Anderson, who housed this criminal with no regards to the families of the victims ?”_

_The dead android laid in Lieutenant Henry Anderson's arms. A close-up angle showed the man crying and asking the android to hold on._

_“For the past two and a half-”_

He turned the news off. Everything had turned out perfectly. He finished his Cognac and poured himself another one, before sitting back at the table. He didn't take his cards right away, knew exactly what they were, knew he'd fold.

“Well,” he said to the six other players, raising his glass for a toast. “That won't be a problem anymore.” The glasses clinked in a chorus of 'Amen's, and they resumed their game.

It wasn't until later that evening that he received a frantic phone call.

' _Sir, there's a problem; Apparently the RK800 had a memory backup system. They might still be stored somewhere and the Lieutenant's gonna find them._ '

“For fuck's sake.” Everyone around the room looked at him with varying degrees of dread or amusement. “This is why I fucking hate androids,” He sighed, ending the call and shuffling the cards for a new game.


	2. Haze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello :) This chapter is a lil bit shorter than usual, but if I don't put it out now, I'll delay it another week, because I'm sick, I can't focus, and I don't know what to add, and I wanted to end it there ^^.
> 
> Thanks so much to Nolfalvrel for their help in brainstorming, and idea bouncing, and general feedback. Thank you, dude :D
> 
> The end product of this chapter is not beta-read, so any mistake is still completely my fault :)

The rest of the day, the rest of the evening, the following morning went by in a haze. They all took a long hot shower, changed in comfy clothes, sat on the couch in front of the TV, without really knowing what the hell was going on. Sumo was rolled in a ball between the two of them. Richard had wordlessly asked for Hank's hand, and so he'd given it to him. Richard's skin program had retracted from his hand as if trying to interface without noticing. Hank tightened his hold.

His shrink had called, and he didn't really listen or talk, but what she said boiled down to 'Please, don't burn yourself up.' Connor's shrink had called, and she sounded sincerely shaken. When Hank told her Connor's memories had been uploaded, she'd gone silent for a few seconds, then pretty much told him the same thing as his own shrink.

Then Markus had called.

 _'Hank, I... I don't know what to say...'_ Then why did he call, exactly ? But Hank didn't say that.

“Markus, forget about that,” he said instead, interrupting whatever Markus had been about to say. “Are you sure you've found every CyberLife lab ?”

 _'Huh-_ ' He answered eloquently, thrown off by the question. ' _I'm sure, yes, we were given an official list by the government after CyberLife's dismantling. Why ?'_

“Okay. I know you know Connor could 'come back to life' if he was destroyed, right ?” Markus hummed, and Hank plowed forward. “Right, well, his memories were uploaded before he died. Which means his cloud server's still up and running, right ?”

' _I... Guess so, yes._ '

“Well then, why didn't you find it ? It has to be somewhere, no ? So, are you sure you've found every CyberLife lab ?” The line was silent for a little while.

' _I suppose they wouldn't have displayed an illegal laboratory's position on official documentation. But if there are any more, I don't have any idea where they could be._ ' Hank grunted in his hand, breathed in and out before continuing.

“What about the tower ? It's a big fucking building, are you sure you've found every room in there ?”

' _Hank_ ,' Markus answered with a huff, ' _We've turned the place upside down, there are construction androids roaming around and remodeling; They've mapped the whole tower out. We haven't missed anything.'_

“Yeah, but I know Connor came from this place; He told us himself.”

'… _Hank, I don't want to be rude, but... Is there a chance that maybe, Connor came from somewhere else, but couldn't say ?_ ' Hank didn't know what to answer to that. Yeah, he guessed... That could be possible... Left speechless, he could hear Markus ask if he was okay, when Richard snatched the phone from his hand.

“Markus,” he said, his voice flat but his LED bright red. “I've seen directly into his memories of his testing. There is no mistaking the tower for any other place. You could've missed a hidden room, or even a hidden floor.” Hank couldn't decipher whatever Markus' answer was. But Richard thanked him before he hung up. “He'll check the place again,” he said as he handed him his phone back.

They stayed put another hour before they couldn't anymore, and headed back to the precinct. Hank didn't even consider leaving Sumo alone; The dog would be part of the search, fuck what anyone else would have to say to that. The precinct was a mess. Hank should have called ahead probably, because when they got there, a swarm of reporters threatened to drown them both alive in front of the entrance; They were only saved by the team holding the barricade, and escorted inside under the shouting contests and horrible questions. They'd watched the news with greeted teeth the night before, and Hank, for one, would really like to get into their faces and explain exactly what he thought of their fucking lies.

Once inside, they didn't have time to breathe: There actually was a press conference going home in the meeting room. Before Hank could make any kind of move to hide from unwanted attention, he spotted someone sitting at his desk; the FBI guy from the previous day. Hank would be fucked if he remembered his name. Richard and he made their way over to him, but were stopped by Fowler's hand on Hank's arm.

“For Christ's sake,” he whispered exasperatedly in his ear, stirring him down the hall and into observation room two. “Why the hell didn't you call, you idiot ?” The door closed behind Richard, and Jeff, pinching the bridge of his nose, sighed heavily. “We've been up to our eyeballs with the press all morning,” he said, sitting tiredly on the desk. “The higher-ups are doing damage control, and there's no way I'm letting you in the same room as one of them.” Hank crossed his arms, was ready to say something, but Jeff was quicker. “I've seen the news last night. I know you're gonna want to tear a few heads off, but I can't let you do it, okay ?” Hank closed his mouth.

“We need to do something,” Richard intervened then.

“God there's two of them...” Jeff sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose for a long ass time. “What do you even want to do, I told you I can't let you in on the investigation.”

“Jeff-”

“No,” he immediately countered, hands up in surrender and standing up again. “Y'know what, just-” he continued as he made his way to the door. “Stay right there, I'm gonna... Head out for a minute...”

The door closed on Jeff, and Hank, left stunned, turned to Richard to be sure this was as weird as he thought it was. At his son's heel, Sumo's tail wagged in support, his big mug tilted to the side questioningly.

And just as Hank opened his mouth to ask Richard what the fuck that was, the door slid open again. It wasn't Jeff, though; The FBI dude entered the room with a file in hand.

“Hey,” he waved before offering his hand to Richard, closer to him. “We haven't really been introduced, my name's Norman Jayden,” he said, shaking their hands in turn. “I'm a huge fan of your work, Lieutenant Anderson. Your work with android relationships is fascinating, and your time in the Red Ice task force ? Incredible.” Hank took back his hand, blinked slowly.

“Huh. Thanks ?” He wasn't really into being sucked up to, and right now wasn't really the greatest of times anyway. But Hank didn't say anything, partly because the guy was in charge of finding Connor, and partly because he had the biggest fucking smile on his damn face.

“Right ! So, I've been to the coroner to check if there was anything salvageable from Connor's...” He cleared his throat, turned around to put his folder down on the desk. “Huh, I wanted to know if we could trace this memory transfer of his, to wherever that cloud might be, but the coroner couldn't find anything, much less a reason for his processors to melt down so thoroughly; It's like it was done on purpose... ”

“Fuck,” Richard spat angrily. God, Hank would never get used to hearing him swear. “That's exactly what happened,” he clarified, his LED burning red. “Connor shared some of his memories with me, and-” His eyes went huge, and a beat passed before he went on. “I didn't understand then, but- I think it's some kind of automatic protection against data theft CyberLife put in place.”

God fucking damn, every time he learned something new about what those fucking bastards did to Connor, Hank's urge to break some necks flared up. He breathed in slowly, closing his eyes in an effort to calm his old heart down. When he was ready, he had a question for the agent.

“Excuse me, but why are you telling us all this ? Not that I'm complaining, but we ain't supposed to follow the investigation.”

“Oh, I thought your captain...” He trailed off, pointing at the exit with a thumb over his shoulder. “Never mind,” he shook his head with a small, sneaky smile. “Well, I don't know anything about Connor, and I think you'd be better equipped to find him, right ?” Before Hank could react, Jayden winked at him. Hank's brows raised up in surprise. “Unless you don't want to-”

“Of fucking course we want to help.” Before anyone could say anything more, the door opened up again, on Jeff this time.

“Alright, listen, the place is swarming with media, you two- three,” he corrected with a look at Sumo, “need to fuck off back home.”

“Wh-” Hank started, but Norman walked right between him and Jeff to leave the room.

“Right, well, Lieutenant, Detective,” he said with a curt nod to each of them. “See you there,” he winked again. And then he was gone. Jeff sighed heavily, head in hands.

“I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that. Now get out of my precinct.” And then he was gone too.

Hank stalled, looked at the door, then turned to Richard.

“... What the fuck was that ?” He asked, Richard sharing his look of confusion. After a silent beat, they shrugged and headed home.


	3. Splitting up

Getting out of the precinct was the same fucking nightmare as going in, and when they reached the car, Hank had to do a double-take; In the backseat, Jayden waved at them with a smile, before lowering the window.

“Hey, I realised I have no idea where you live, and I don't really have a car ? I can catch you up to speed while we get there.” The fuck was that guy ? Who the fuck entered peoples' cars like that ? Also, he was too damn jovial for Hank's ease.

“You're a very peculiar man,” Richard said, his head tilted to the side in confusion, then went to sit in the front passenger seat, and that was that for him.

“I've been told,” the guy chuckled. Hank kept frowning until he sat behind the wheel and shut the door. The guy was obviously harmless. A bit too friendly, but he was like a literal ball of sunshine. So what was that weird unpleasant feeling Hank had about that dude ?

It sounded like Jayden hadn't slept much since the previous day; He started telling them about what he knew about Connor and CyberLife, which wasn't much admittedly, but the guy had a way of getting lost in tangents and explaining everything in excruciating detail, and at the same time speaking so fast Hank wasn't sure the guy was breathing at all.

“Oh !” He exclaimed at some point, abruptly interrupting his explanations about legal battles between CyberLife executives and the government. “Could you stop there ?” He pointed outside at a coffee shop, “I ran out of coffee this morning, I won't be long.” Ah, so that was it. Hank parked wordlessly in front of the small shop, and Jayden jumped out, disappearing into the store.

“He seems a bit hyper,” Richard commented into the dead silence.

“Well, that's an understatement,” Hank sighed. The kid sounded like a neverending wind-up toy, but it wasn't surprising if he was amped up on coffee.

“Hank.” The Lieutenant turned to his son, staring at him already with a weird mix of determined resignation. “I think I will go to New Jericho now, and help them search the tower.”

“Huh.” That was a pretty good idea, all in all. Hank resolutely ignored the weird feeling of wrongness creeping in his gut at that. “Alright ?”

“Connor shared with me some memories of his time there, but I'd rather not show them to anyone else, to respect his privacy. I'm confident I can find wherever Connor is.”

“That sounds good.” That sounded horrible. From Richard's expression, how bad were those memories, exactly ?

“You cannot accompany me, humans aren't allowed easily inside.” Hank didn't want his son to leave him alone, and oh, that was the weird wrongness he'd felt. He couldn't say that though. And he couldn't hold Richard's gaze anymore, because what could he read on his expression, right now ?

“Yeah, I know.” But he also knew Richard had to go check the tower out; He was the most advanced android after all, and his scanners and shit far exceeded those of other androids.

“Hank.”

“Yeah ?” He answered, eyes fixed on the stirring wheel, his voice not wavering.

“Why aren't you fighting to come with me ?” Hank couldn't help but burst into laughter at that. He noted the way it sounded a bit hysterical.

“We can cover more ground if we split up, son.” He said, finally gathering the courage to look back into his son's eyes. “I'll keep looking in other directions.” Richard stared a bit longer, his frown deepening with the gradual shift of his LED from blue to yellow. “Well, what are you waiting for ? Go,” Hank added with a smile he hoped didn't look as fake as it felt.

Another staring contest later, Richard got out of the car, and before shutting the door, turned around toward Sumo.

“Take care of dad, okay ?” The dog boofed happily, and then Richard was gone.

“Huh ? Where's Detective Anderson ?” Jayden asked when he got back from his quest for coffee.

“He went to New Jericho to follow a lead. Hop in,” Hank pointed at the front passenger seat. The agent took a seat and promptly unfolded the cup-holder to put down his coffee. Hank watched as he fumbled with the seatbelt, readjusted the car seat, fiddled with his shoulder bag he'd gotten stuck under the belt until he put it at his feet. When he was done, he turned toward Hank in confusion.

“Hum... Should we go now ?” Hank sighed. He couldn't explain what it was, but a weird sensation tugged at him.

“Y'know what, I don't really want to go home. It's almost noon, let's find someplace to eat.”

The ride was mostly silent, Jayden's rapid-fire info-dumping forgotten; Instead, the guy had put on some VR glasses and glove, and was absorbed by whatever. Hank was glad for the brief respite, until they reached the small diner; Left alone with his thoughts, his mind quickly wandered into dark places. So in the queue to order in, arms crossed and his foot tapping on the floor nervously, Hank broke the silence.

“So, huh, what else do you have ?” Jayden looked up from the menu in his hands with a smile.

“Okay, so I went back as far as I could to be sure I didn't miss anything...”

The agent shared everything he had as they ordered, then made their way to a small booth in the back of the diner. There was a lot of info, but from what Hank gathered, none of it was helpful for finding Connor. Until he mentioned a familiar name.

“... Amanda Stern, an AI professor at the University of Colbridge. She's considered a pioneer in the androids' development-”

“Wait wait wait, Amanda ?” Jayden looked at him from behind his half-eaten burger.

“Yes ?”

“What does this Amanda have to do with Connor ?” The agent frowned a bit; Maybe he'd already said, Hank couldn't be sure he actually listened to everything.

“Well, as I said, she was one of the most eminent authority on AI, and she was Elijah Kamski's mentor. She had a great influence on-”

“No, I don't care about her life story, I want to know what ties her to Connor ?” Jayden tilted his head, took a gulp of his coffee before answering.

“When we dug into the more heavily edited files from CyberLife, there're mentions of her name scattered across hundreds of redacted emails. We don't know exactly what was her involvement, because she died in 2027. So unless the RK800's development started a lot earlier than we thought, it doesn't make sense to include her... I went to look for her family and colleagues, but that was a complete dead-end.” Chin in hand, eyes closed, Hank tried to remain calm. Because he knew exactly what her involvement was. Or rather...

“It's not Amanda Stern you're looking for,” he said. What exactly should he share with the guy ? Would he be breaching Connor's privacy ? But right now, Hank was thinking about all the resources of the FBI; If used in the right direction, could it be useful ? And it's not like he had to talk about the countless times his son had woken from a nightmare, begging Amanda to let him go. “Amanda's an AI. CyberLife put her inside Connor's head to control him.” Jayden had been about to take a bite of his burger. Instead, eyes-wide in shock, he lowered it to his plate.

“Oh wow. Okay. That's... Interesting...” Food forgotten, he put his VR glasses back on, and with swift and frantic motions of his hand, left Hank on his own. He observed the guy for a while, poking absently at his fries without really eating, before directing his attention outside the window.

The heavy sky and grey snow on the pavement didn't do much in terms of distraction, but it was better than closing his eyes again; Every time, Connor's dead eyes would stare back at him and-

**ding**

Sumo's heavy head landed on his lap from under the table. His big beady eyes stared at him with insistence. With a pat on the dog's head, Hank took his phone out; It was a message from Sumo.

[:)]

Hank stared at the little smiley face for a long time, mind blank, until something broke; He huffed into his hand, hiding his tears from the world.

“God,” he sighed, a small smile blooming for the dog looking at him with loving eyes. “You're right, buddy,” he told him, “thank you.”

Hank busied himself petting his friend until Jayden came around.

“Hmm. The only clear mention of an AI called Amanda is from a very early CyberLife project, back when Elijah Kamski was still CEO of the company and Amanda Stern was alive. There aren't any details about the nature of the project and no mention of the RK800 at all.”

“Huh.” If they didn't mention the link between Connor and the AI, did it mean there was something more to it ? Something they needed to hide ?

“We should find a way to talk to Elijah Kamski,” Jayden announced, picking his burger back up and taking a big bite out of it. Hank squinted when the kid tried to talk, spraying salad all over the table. The Lieutenant was thinking the same thing, but now he wanted to know the agent's reasoning. “Kamski's at the origin of this AI,” he continued after he finished his bite. “And if you're saying she was in Connor's head, it's worth looking into it.” He took another gulp of coffee before crossing his arms, a thoughtful frown deepening as the seconds passed. “I tried contacting him before, but he screens all his calls through a very intransigeant receptionist. It might take a while to get an appointment...”

“Kid, hold on,” Hank finally intervened, holding up a hand. “Don't worry about that, I'll get us there.”

* * *

Through the automated taxi's window, Richard watched the grey streets go by, dirty snow scooped to the sides of the road, holiday lights barely livening up the city. He'd sent a message to the Leaders of New Jericho, informing them of his arrival, imposing his help for the search of his brother. Their answer had been... Very official.

Richard didn't enjoy going to New Jericho; It reminded him too much of his confusing, frantic first few months of activation. Nothing had been making sense back then, not the new status of androids in society, not his own purpose in life, not his place in the world.

Then there was Connor's unease toward the tower. Richard had always attributed it to his past as the 'Deviant Hunter', and Connor had never denied nor elaborated on it. Richard, on his end, was in a weird position with the androids of Jericho; He'd been made for the same purpose as Connor, been made in his likeness, lived with him and cherished him. Which apparently constituted some kind of treason by association.

The car silently made its way on the snowy bridge, the former CyberLife tower raising like an intimidating shadow in the distance.

So, yes. Richard didn't enjoy going to New Jericho. But today, he journeyed there with determination. With the singular goal of finding his brother. He was made to succeed, and he would do everything to succeed in this one mission.


	4. At Kamski's

“You know, I read somewhere that Markus, the android Leader, has been personally built by Elijah Kamski ?” Jayden shared enthusiastically. Hank grunted to let him know he'd heard him, and bent forward and over the steering wheel to see further ahead. He'd been focused on not skidding and crashing over ice or snow on this underused part of the road; Kamski had chosen to live far away from all principal roads. At least, Hank told himself, he'd been there already, and he kind of remembered the way. “And Markus is supposedly an RK series and a prototype as well !”

“Yeah, yeah...” Hank indulged, straining his old eyes in the shitty, foggy weather. He'd known already, couldn't remember who told him. He wouldn't have cared if the mention of Markus didn't stir up their last few encounters, the android's weird behavior and Connor's reactions to him. He hadn't had the time to question Markus about all this shit, but nothing was forgotten.

“It's strange that there are only two prototypes and detective Anderson in the RK series. I wonder what links these three together...” Hank had wondered too, at some point, what Markus had to do with his sons, but had never gone anywhere with those thoughts.

“I guess we'll find out soon enough,” he answered as the weird architectural nightmare that was Kamski's house came into view. The agent remained silent for a few seconds, probably taking in the view.

“I still can't believe one of your colleagues' related to _The_ Elijah Kamski.” Hank sighed. He'd never asked Reed what connected him to Kamski, so he'd been actually surprised when Jayden found out they were step-brothers. Not that it was any of anyone's business. But it did make Hank wonder what the implications were about Reed being kind of an uncle to the entire Android race...

Hank parked almost in the exact same spot he'd parked three years ago, almost on the dot. Last time he'd been there, it'd been with Connor... An un-deviated Connor, a Connor that had hesitated a full fifteen seconds before deciding not to kill that Chloe... He wondered what she'd thought about that stunt. Had she been a deviant ? Had she been scared ?

Hank got out of his car, Jayden in tow, and walked carefully to avoid slipping on the perfectly smooth, ice-covered tiles leading to the porch. Surprisingly, Kamski greeted them himself at the door this time. He was wearing clothes, too.

“Please, come in,” he said pleasantly, inviting them in with wide, welcoming arms. Hank had coined the guy as a self-centered asshole, so it was weird seeing him display... Decency and social skills. He led them past the lobby and around the swimming pool to sit in the fancy armchairs facing the bigass fucking bay window.

“This new haircut suits you, Lieutenant,” he said conversationally as he headed to an alcohol cart. But it made Hank wince as he absently rubbed at the back of his smooth hair. Right, he still had had long hair back at the facility...

“Yeah...” He said, keeping the hurt from his voice. Because he hadn't cut his hair for the hell of it; Connor... He'd woken up lost, in those first few days after he'd come home, and he'd- He'd frozen terrified, more than usual. It had taken hours for him to calm down. Even now, Hank could see his expression of pure terror.

When he'd explained what happened, Hank had disappeared into the bathroom immediately, cut off all his hair with dull scissors and tears blurring his vision. The kid had mistaken him for Zlatko. His son had seen Zlatko above him, waking him up in his own bed, in his own house, instead of his father.

Fuck. Hank cleared his throat and his mind, coming back to the present to Kamski preparing a drink from a fancy wood and gold bar cart, full of fancy engraved crystal decanters. With a pair of fancy silver pincers, he fetched a perfectly square and clear ice-cube from a fancy, shiny ice-cube tray, plopped it in a fancy blown-molded glass, and poured what was probably the highest-end of whatever amber alcohol was in one of the decanters.

He proposed it to Hank, who promptly refused it. Kamski smirked, which irked Hank to no end, but they were here for a reason, so he swallowed the biting remark that came to mind. Kamski simply shrugged and handed the glass to Jayden instead.

“Thank you, but I'm on the clock,” the agent refused politely, a hint of awe in his voice. Kamski sat opposite of them, now pouting for whatever fucking reason.

“You've ruined my joke,” he said out of left field.

“Huh... ?” Was the only answer Hank could think of.

“It's not alcohol, it's Nestea,” he explained with annoyance in his tone, twirling his glass dejectedly. What the fuck. But before any of them could say anything, Kamski abandoned the glass on the coffee table separating them. “So, I've seen the news. My condolences by the way,” he said with no apparent sympathy. “What did you want to know ?” He opened his arms in invitation.

What. The. Fuck. Hank was too stunned to answer, so Norman took it upon himself to explain the search for Connor's memory cloud and Amanda the AI's mystery involvement.

“So you think Connor's memories have been stored in an external cloud server before he was destroyed. And you think he can come back.” Kamski looked like a hungry predator stalking a delicious prey. That, plus his apparent lack of concern, raised Hank's hackles.

“I don't think so, I know it. I saw it happen,” he asserted with finality.

“Oh ?” Kamski said, his expression turning ravenous at this revelation. Hank definitely didn't like that guy... But he needed his knowledge. If he could pique his interest with this, Hank would relent.

“I...” But how much details was he ready to share ? Not so much. “I saw Connor get destroyed. He fell off a roof.” It wasn't any of Kamski's business to know Hank had been the one to... He cleared his throat, shook away the thought. “He was back the next day in a new body,” he concluded after making sure his voice wouldn't waver. Kamski stayed silent a long while, his expression calculating.

“Why are you searching, then, if he comes back on his own ?” He asked then.

“Don't play stupid,” Hank spat, “ you know he'd need technicians to come back or something. And he'd already be back by now if he'd have been able to.” Kamski, a sly glee to his smile, raised his hands defensively.

“Alright, alright,” he answered with nonchalance. He picked up his glass, before turning his attention toward the wall of rock on his right. “I have no idea where that server could be. The RK800's development started after I left CyberLife... But I did create the AI Amanda.” He took a gulp of his fucking Nestea before continuing.

“It was a project I started with my mentor, Professor Amanda Stern. We were trying to encode a human's memories and consciousness and transcribe them into raw data. But it never worked; First, because there simply wasn't enough storage space to hold the entirety of a mature adult's memories.”

“There was an AI with the traits, personality and broad knowledge of Amanda Stern, but even if we'd have managed to fully encode her memories, there was another problem; It wasn't 'Amanda Stern', it was someone new entirely. It was a functional AI, but nothing more than any other android's AI. The only difference was that she was made to resemble an existing person, and she had no physical body.” Kamski took another sip of his drink, eyes lost in the vague.

“When Amanda passed, I abandoned the project,” he said with, for the first time, a hint of emotion in his voice. “And when I left CyberLife, I had to leave her AI there,” he concluded with more strength. He marked a pause before turning to them, almost looking hurt. “You're saying they put her inside Connor to 'control him' ?”

Once again, Hank didn't want to share that much personal stuff, but... It sounded like the guy actually cared about that damn AI. Which made Hank's stomach turn. Before fucking Zlatko happened, that damn fucking AI had been the Boogeyman of Connor's worst nightmares. Hank'd heard her name screamed in terror into the night. He'd had to exorcise their house from her ghost, roaming at the edges of Connor's confused mind.

How could that guy actually show concern _for_ her ?

“Yeah,” Hank simply said. There was nothing else to it. If he said more about her, he might get nasty. Luckily, Jayden intervened, steering the conversation away from... That.

“You talked about encoding memories. Doesn't it sound like memory transfer ? More specifically, Connor's memory transfer ?” Kamski seemed to ponder the question, swirling his drink like a James Bond villain.

“I suppose,” he finally shrugged. “Transfering an AI's data from one digital space to another isn't difficult. What you're telling me Connor's memory transfer is, the actual crux would be the real-time transfer of memories to a cloud server... That would require a dedicated wireless connection and a private space...” He rested his chin into his hand, thoughtful. “There'd be a risk of data corruption, but it wouldn't be too difficult to put in place.” Kamski frowned, then finally turned to them. “What did you want me to tell you, exactly ?” He opened his hand palm-up, an eyebrow raised in question.

“You were the creator and CEO of CyberLife, wouldn't you know where that cloud server might be ?” Jayden asked, because Hank was still reeling from that Amanda shit storm.

“The tower, obviously, why are you even asking ? There are ten entire floors dedicated to server space. He's bound to be there.”

“No, Markus and his crew already scoured the place, they didn't find anything,” Hank finally said.

“Well, I don't know where else he could be,” Kamski concluded, finishing his drink and putting it down with a loud clank. Jayden didn't seem discouraged by this, and rifled through his bag.

“Do you have a list of CyberLife locations from when you worked there ? We've got an official list, but maybe you could take a look and tell us if there are any missing ?” Kamski took the tablet handed out by the agent.

“I wasn't in charge of the... Logistics,” He said, flicking swiftly through the documents in front of him. “I can't tell you if anything's missing in there.” He gave the tablet back, fell back in his chair. “Sorry,” He added as in an afterthought. “Anything else you'd like to ask ?”

“Do you have anything like a list of employees ?” Hank went on. “The technicians working on the RK800 project have vanished from official records, but maybe-” Kamski interrupted with a hand in a 'stop' motion.

“I have nothing of the sort,” he answered. “Again, sorry.” He didn't really sound like he was sorry, but well...

Hank sighed, turned to Jayden, silently asking if he had anything else. The agent started shaking his head, but seemed to change his mind.

“You've personally built the RK 200 Markus, yes ?” Kamski nodded with an air of ennui about him. “Is there a link between him and the Connors ? They're the only RKs in existence, why is that ?” Kamski frowned, opened his mouth before closing it again, seriousness crossing his trait surreptitiously.

“Heh,” he finally shrugged. “RK stood for Research Kamski; It was supposed to be my personal line of pet projects. But I guess nothing was sacred for CyberLife and they decided to steal it for themselves.”

Huh. That was kind of anti-climatic. Judging on Jayden's expression, he seemed to think the same.

“Well,” the agent said, putting away his tablet and motioning to get up. “Thank you for your time, doctor. It's been an honor,” he held out his hand to Kamski, who took it with the look of doing someone a favor.

“I'll let you find your own way out,” he waved his hand in the air to dismiss them like superfluous servants. Hank might've socked him in the jaw if he didn't feel so down.

Their first and only lead had been a complete bust. The only thing they'd learned was that Connor was definitely somewhere he definitely wasn't. Big fucking whoop, right ?

Hank wondered if Richard was finding anything on his side.


	5. Babylone

Richard stepped into New Jericho's lobby with determination, and was immediately greeted by North. New Jericho's head of security had her arms crossed and her brows furrowed, and invited Richard to follow her with a brief nod. Hands joined in his back, he strode her way under the scrutiny of the few androids milling around.

“I asked to be able to search on my own,” he said when he caught up with her, halfway across the hall. “I believe that way there are fewer chances to overlook-”

“Not happening,” she interrupted. “I'm coming with.” She didn't elaborate. Richard's program automatically formulated multiple theories to explain her conduct.

“Do you mistrust me in some way ?” He asked, observing her reaction closely. There was a slight lag in her gait before she shrugged.

“Maybe,” she answered coldly. They walked silently to the elevator, and while waiting for the cabin to come down, North transmitted several files containing maps of the tower; Exploded views, schematics, electrical grids, reports from the construction androids. “I'm accompanying you because there are some around here that aren't too keen about the reason for your presence.”

They stepped into the elevator, and Richard called the fortieth floor of the tower, where he knew the main security console to be.

“I just want to find my brother and get out.” North, leaning on the wall furthest from him, stared straight ahead.

**[WR400 North Althorn]**

**[STRESS LEVEL 14%]**

STATUS: Nervous, Wary, Annoyed

“What makes you think he's even here ? We've turned the place upside down, we'd have found him.” Richard turned his attention to the rapidly increasing number on the lift's digital display.

“I have my reasons.” If New Jericho was so against anything having to do with Connor, Richard wouldn't be the one betraying his intimacy. What he'd seen in his brother's shared memories didn't leave any place to doubt; He had to be somewhere around here. The elevator dinged open on the fortieth floor, and North gestured for Richard to go ahead.

“Pretend I'm not here,” she said with a smirk that Richard's program labeled as [Sardonic]. He took her at face value, and started his search.

He headed to the main console's room, its entrance guarded by two androids. They turned to Richard with suspicion, but quickly stood down when North waved them away. Well, Richard guessed her presence wouldn't be such a problem after all. The room was less of a room and more of a corridor; The main console occupied most of the space. New Jericho had installed several interface surfaces, but Richard used the original one, hidden behind a glass panel. The skin of his hand receded up to his wrist, and he dove through the tower's security grid.

Several firewalls tried to keep him out of the whole grid, but he swiftly cracked them. He downloaded every document North had already given him, compared the two for discrepancies while he deepened his search; New Jericho weren't the only distrustful ones. Before he could find anything more, the results of his comparison came back clean; North had given him complete documents.

He rifled through old CCTV archive footage to try and spot Connor, but nothing older than post-revolution remained. CyberLife had been very thorough.

He found very little as he dug deeper, mainly irrelevant proof of accounting fraud; Agent Norman Jayden had sent him the documentation the FBI had collected, so Richard immediately spotted the fictitious journal entries and altered records. Some top brass had even gone through the company to buy a few collector quarters and unrelated biological samples. Just to be sure, Richard went through it all, but nothing pertained to his search.

He'd have to search the tower physically then. That wasn't a problem; He'd fully charged and defragmented the night before, he could go a week without pause.

He climbed up to the last floor, set on methodically combing through each level in descending order.

He deployed every scanners and sensors he had, building his own map of the building as he went. He checked every broom closet, every electrical panel. He checked each security panel managing every floor individually.

North's ghost followed nonchalantly behind him, and sometimes he could hear her whisper reassurances to the Jericho residents, staring at him as if he'd suddenly chase them around like a serial killer. He could hear some of them asking about 'the Deviant Hunter ? Markus said he might be here ?' Richard's program coined their tone as [panicked] and [scared]. It took everything out of him to stay focused on his task, to keep from telling them they were wrong about his brother because he knew if he did that, he'd scare them; His HUD kept suggesting [intimidate] and [defend] or even stranger options like [snarl] and [shout].

And that's not what he was here for.

He checked the remaining water supply networks in the now renovated bathrooms, followed the water grids to check for discrepancies.

He used the stairs and checked for emergency fire exits, kept count of the floors to find anything wrong.

In three hours, he'd covered twelve floors, and had found nothing. What would he do if he didn't find Connor here ? Where would he search for his brother ? He was so sure Connor was in here somewhere that he didn't even think of other options until then. While he went through the motions of inspecting the floors, Richard dove into Connor's memories again. He debated turning off his social suit so he wouldn't get overwhelmed, but he decided against it; Connor had to bear them without shortcuts or crutches. Richard could bear it too. It was only fair.

He'd already tried to identify technicians from those memories, but they'd apparently worn face-scramblers around Connor so they'd be unidentifiable. They'd thought of everything...

Richard then positively identified several separate locations in the blend of memory files and isolated the three that were pre-revolution era; CyberLife Tower, various warzones, and what appeared to be a military facility. Richard wasn't positive it was always the same facility, but it was a probable lead if the Tower revealed fruitless.

With the FBI's resources, there was a chance Agent Jayden could dig into military files, so Richard sent a brief report explaining his findings, and why they should look into it, without giving details of Connor's memories.

It took seven more hours to get down to the fourteenth floor, and he'd found nothing yet. North's constant scoffing and snide remarks were making Richard's stress levels climb steadily, slowly enough that his overseer program didn't correct it. He stiffly made his way to the staircase, swung the door, and marched down the stairs with a bit too much strength. As he reached the end of the stairs, he paused. Closed his eyes, inhaled slowly. He deliberately took his time to fetch his pen from his breast pocket and proceeded to initiate a calibration sequence. He ignored how North's blasé gait came to a stop a few steps behind him, focused on the silky smooth surface of his pen as it twirled around his fingers.

**[Level of stress: 60%]** _**▼** _

[ ](https://zupimages.net/up/20/43/9j9i.jpg)

“What's up with you ?” North asked, and he wished his social program didn't automatically tag her tone; [Derisive]. Richard exhaled deliberately. Finished his calibration sequence. Pocketed his pen.

“Let's go,” he set off back toward the staircase's exit instead of answering, and immediately stopped, eyes set on the black letters above the door; 12  th  Floor. He'd just come from the fourteenth floor, how had he missed a whole level ?

He inspected his mental map around every angle possible, recounted the number of stairs between the two levels, calculated the heights of each floor. But there was nothing wrong; He definitely hadn't gone too far, there was not enough place for the thirteenth to exist between the two others.

“There's no thirteenth floor,” he said, rifling through every document he'd received; The information was nowhere to be found. There was no explanation.

“Huh,” North answered, [Nonchalent]. “Right,” she added, [mocking]. Richard frowned.

“This was not mentioned in your reports,” he pointed out, turning toward her. She had her arms crossed and a smirk on her lips.

“I guess not,” she shrugged. “Is it important ?” Richard's frown deepened.

“Of course it is, I told Markus we were probably looking for a hidden floor. Why didn't he say there was a whole missing level ?” North's smirk widened, and she waved a [Dismissive] hand in the air.

“Dunno. Oversight ?”

Something wild and blistering rushed through Richard's chest and up his throat.

“Why aren't you taking this seriously ?” He asked, voice carefully controlled, fists and jaw tightly clenched. North's sneer faltered as she raised her eyebrows almost imperceptibly. “You keep saying you've already looked everywhere, and you fail to notice a whole missing floor.” Richard felt the synthetic skin of him palms fail under the pressure, his teeth grind almost audibly.

“Yeah, well,” she scoffed, [Irritated] now, “If we thought there was a floor full of murderers waiting to activate in the middle of our home, we might have looked harder.” A dull buzz traveled through Richard's circuitry, his core temperature rising, his control unraveling.

“You're all fucking hypocrites, Connor is a victim !” He bellowed, limbs shaking and voice rising. [Surprise] painted North's traits now. “He didn't have any choice, you're just bigoted assholes !” He pointed an accusing finger at her. “You, of all people, should know-”

“Shut the fuck up,” she hissed, [Enraged]. “You don't get to tell me what to think.” Her voice was low, dangerous. “Your fucking thirteenth floor doesn't exist because of human superstitions. There's nothing to it, so get that fucking brick out of your ass and get off my back.” Richard wanted to outclass her shouting, get angrier, throw more insults to her face, Connor didn't deserve-

**[Critical unknown instability detected]**

**[** **⚠** **Risk of violence detected !** **⚠** **]**

>Stabilisation required

>Correcting...

.

**[All systems stabilised]**

.

**[Level of stress: 15%]▼▼▼**

The tide of... [Anger] scorching his wiring abruptly receded, leaving him strangely empty. He was struck silent, his detective program running an automatic search on superstition. He dully learned how some humans thought the number thirteen to be 'bad luck', how most building companies had decided to skip it entirely for no other reason than pleasing customers.

“What now ?” North spat, making Richard notice he was staring. He stepped back, turned away and stepped out of the stairwell without a word.

He surmised Hank and the agent were probably asleep by now, so he didn't send them a mid-report of his... Of his lack of findings.

The remaining fourteen hours of his search were silent. In Richard's back, North was [tense] but thankfully had stopped scoffing and sneering.

He reached the last floor, level -49, and he'd found nothing . Not a single suspect door, not a single hidden passage, not a single thing out of the ordinary. The tower was a bust. It couldn't be possible, and yet, it was.

How could it be ? Richard had been so sure...

“Found anything new ?” North asked, the first thing she'd said since their altercation. Her temper was more subdued, but Richard's program still detected hostility. Fair enough. He went twice through everything he'd collected, checked, compiled, twirling his pen absently while processing.

“I did not,” he sighed, and wondered if Hank and agent Jayden were having any luck on their side.


	6. Military Training

On their way back from Kamski's, Hank and Jayden'd received a text from Rich; He'd formulated a new theory from the memories Connor had shared with him, and was asking Jayden to look into military facilities related to CyberLife one way or another. The FBI agent had immediately contacted his team, losing himself in his research. Eyes firmly set on the icy road, Hank could only see Jayden's frantic hand motions in the periphery of his vision.

“You told me Connor's eight years old, right ?” Jayden eventually asked out of nowhere, but didn't wait for an answer before he went on. “We're going back to that time to find CyberLife employees with military background.”

“Good thinking, yeah,” Hank answered with no conviction. He kept driving, and even though he was heading back toward the city, he couldn't help but feel lost; Like he had no destination, no idea where to go. He was supposed to be a great detective, for fuck's sake, why couldn't he think of anything ?

“There's only one military base associated with CyberLife research laboratories,” Jayden went on. “Well, in America at least. The others are in secret overseas locations. And would you believe it's located right outside the city ?” He added excitedly.

“Well, yeah, Detroit's the cradle of Android manufacturing,” Hand answered with more reserve, but ready to change destination as soon as the kid would give out an address already.

“But we can't go,” he said instead.

“Why the fuck not ?” Hank asked through gritted teeth.

“It's a military base,” he said as a matter of course, and yeah, sure, it was, but it was still annoying. “Not even the FBI has jurisdiction. Sorry,” he ended with. Hank said nothing. Instead, he reached for his phone magnetised to the dashboard, and activated the voice recognition.

“Call Jeff,” he instructed.

 _'Hank,'_ the Captain answered at the second tone.

“Go on agent Jayden,” the Lieutenant said conspicuously, “Ask Captain Fowler if he wouldn't have any connections that could get us into that military base Connor might be at.” Jayden's eyes were wide and questioning. Jeff's sigh was loud and exasperated.

 _'Which base ?'_ He simply asked.

When Jeff called back with a time-sensitive invitation to the Detroit Military base, Hank was already driving in that direction. They pulled up at the security gate soon after, went through all the security stuff, and were escorted toward a small building off to the side. They parked beside the soldier in his golf cart and followed him into the prefabricated building. A few soldiers milled around, looked at them curiously. Most of them wore white coats on top of their military fatigues; Scientists then. The soldier they followed stopped in front of a door labeled 'Chief Warrant Officer 3 Amira Odome' and knocked.

“Come in,” Chief Odome, presumably, called through the door. The soldier obeyed, opened the door, saluted the woman sitting behind her desk.

“Lieutenant of Police Henry Anderson and FBI agent Norman Jayden, Sir,” he presented them, saluted again, and was promptly dismissed. Hank and Jayden entered the small office and sat opposite the Chief warrant whatever.

“So,” she said, “Jeff called. Filled me in. You're looking for your son ? Who's an android that might have done some military testing here.” Hank approved, and she went on. “What I don't get is why are you looking for him here ?”

Jayden explained the whole memory cloud, hidden lab thing while Hank observed her reactions. She definitely ticked when the agent showed her a picture of Connor, but it could be for a variety of reasons.

“I've seen him,” she said when Jayden was done with his explanations, and fucking finally ! She crossed her hands under her chin, her brows furrowing. “Everything I'm going to tell you became public knowledge, bar the details of...” She marked the slightest of pauses. “Your son's training, after the android revolution...”

* * *

The Detroit Military Base worked hand in hand with specially approved CyberLife scientists before the revolution. Together, they developed military softwares and androids, as well as brand new tactical programs following the rise of androids only battalions.

It wasn't rare to see android prototypes being tested around the base; battle royals between dozens of androids and drones, Generals inventing new tactics in real-time, like a life-size game of Total Annihilation.

But the most astonishing of all of those had been when some CyberLife higher-ups came in with a brand new, and most of all top-secret project of theirs; A unique model, built on the basis of one of Elijah Kamski's last personal project before he left the company.

The android bore the promise of being the most efficient soldier, a one-unit Platoon, built stronger, faster, more intelligent, adaptable. Better in all aspects. But it was also a Learning AI; It had come online as a blank slate, and had to learn through experience just like a human would.

The android came in in 2035, fresh out of its stress-testing phase. Chief Odome's first impression of the android was that of a wide-eyed young man; It didn't have any Android identifier mark apart from its LED; no armband, no triangle on its military armor, no apparent model or serial number. The CyberLife representative gave no other explanation than 'Top Secret Project'. Odome's higher-ups didn't seem to tick, and so she didn't either. Other than her, only six of her colleagues knew of this operation.

The android was brought to the base to test out the Alpha version of a brand new military program suit. During the pre-test briefing, three CyberLife technicians busied themselves around the unit, and to Odome's surprise, the unit observed them back with what she could only describe as curiosity.

Convinced of their new program's superiority, CyberLife's representatives wanted to pit it against an SQ800 squad plus a drone team. Chief Odome and her colleagues had been skeptical, but it wasn't their money and super-advanced prototype on the line.

It was a 'Last One standing' strike training test. The humans watched from the observation room as the four drones and sixteen SQ800s quickly scattered around the hangar, took cover behind concrete pillars and upturned car carcasses, preparing to deal with their lone target. The mystery android prototype wasn't given any strategy by CyberLife; After the five minutes head-start given to its enemies, it was simply let loose in the hangar, with only a rifle at its disposal.

At first, the prototype didn't seem like much; It acted like the SQ800s, and Odome and her colleagues were keen to voice their unimpressed opinions. The prototype quickly fell into an ambush; Cornered by three androids, it seemed like the show was over, after only five minutes of androids dancing around each other. But the prototype managed to free itself by sacrificing an arm.

And then it was like a switch was flipped; In the following ten minutes, the lone android seemed to adjust its tactics in real-time, never slowing down, never missing its target. It plowed through its twenty enemies with deadly precision. In comparison, the SQ800s' rigid tactical programs never deviated from their preset strategies, and they were quickly left three, ten, twenty steps behind the prototype.

But that's not what marked Chief Odome the most; Sure, it had been impressive to watch, and it would assert the US military dominance, no doubt. It had done that with only one arm !

No, what marked Chief Odome was the prototype's behavior after the end of the test; Slathered in thirium, it stood motionless above its last targets, griping its rifle in its remaining arm. It didn't react when the humans joined it, didn't react when the CyberLife techs encircled it, asked it questions, probed at its stump.

The android's LED was pulsing red, and if at the time, any of them had known better, they'd have known; Known it had turned deviant in front of them and their detached fascination, their cold commentaries, their calculating conclusions.

They'd have known, because this expression... God, these eyes, they should have noticed; No machine could make this expression of pure shock. The android wasn't motionless because he'd finished his task, he was motionless because he was in shock. They'd done that to him.

They'd done that to him, and what they did was celebrate this astonishing success, while the android still stood traumatised in the middle of them congratulating each other.

* * *

“The only thing I heard him say,” the woman concluded her story, “was that he failed his mission. He was sorry he'd been damaged.” Chief Odome laid back in her chair with a sigh under Hank's dismayed staring. “I don't think I'll ever forget the way his voice wavered. Honestly, I don't know how we didn't suspect the whole Deviancy phenomenon sooner.”

Hank... Didn't know what to say. He'd heard, of course, about the 'military training' Connor had gone through. Intellectually, he'd known it couldn't have been fun. He already knew it was part of Connor's laundry list of traumas.

But fucking hell, it was another thing to hear about it in detail. Elbows on knees, head in hands, Hank glared listlessly at the fucking desk in front of him. He had no words. 2035 ? The kid had been what ? Two years old ? Yeah, alright, androids didn't 'age' the same, but fuck !

“So, you've met some CyberLife employees, could you give us some names ?” Jayden asked after a silent pause. Right. There was an actual purpose to this whole fucking nightmare.

“Sorry, but they never gave any names. They wore face scrambling devices, so our systems couldn't identify them either.”

So all this had been useless ?

“Did you have any other interactions with Connor ?” Jayden insisted. “You or one of your colleagues ?” Saying that, he handed his tablet to the Chief Warrant. “Do you recognise any of those people maybe ?” The woman studied the list of ex-military, former CyberLife employees that might have come across Connor in his early life, but she quickly gave the tablet back. She crossed her arms, shook her head with pursed lips and a sympathetic expression.

“I'm sorry, none of them come from this base. And I told you everything I know about... Connor. Those CyberLife people were surprisingly skilled in covering their asses.”

Great. So all they had was a big fuming pile of zilch and nada. Chief Odome escorted them back out of the base, wishing for them to find Connor soon. The sun had set while they were in there, and the first thought that crossed Hank's mind was to get a few drinks in to-

No. Fuck no. He couldn't go there. He checked his phone now that they were out of the base and allowed to turn them back on, read Richard's update about his lack of findings, and sent him the same before starting the car to go home.


	7. Dash Forty-five

They entered the city pretty late at night, and maybe it was the sight of the lights that made Jayden react.

“I don't have a hotel room,” he stated, matter-of-factly. Hank didn't turn to stare him down, but he certainly wanted to.

“Where did you stay last night ?” Why did he even care ?

“I worked all night,” the agent answered cheerfully. Ah, fuck.

“Richard said he'll be at the tower all night and...” Hank interrupted himself. Shit. “There's a spare room.” He pointedly did not turn to the agent, who stayed silent long enough to be awkward.

“I- Wouldn't want to impose.”

“Dude, I'm offering,” Hank huffed, waving a hand around in dismissal. “Plus I...” Something lodged in his throat, the words vanished, and he had to refocus for a second. “The house is... Gonna feel too empty,” he mumbled the last words. Well, that was embarrassing. He knew the agent for all of a day and he was already oversharing like hell.

“Oh,” was all Jayden said for an agonizingly long five seconds. “Okay, then.”

The plan had been to go home, but when they turned the corner of Hank's street, hell was in front of them.

“Oh, fucking fucks.” Hank had rarely seen so much media vans, journalists, drones, flashing lights around, and it had mostly been around high-end cases involving celebrities. He was tempted to turn around then and there, but he could see some cop-cars keeping all that vermin away from his lawn, so it was really just a matter of making his way through the crowd and then he'd be home. He really didn't want to though.

He knew why they were there. He was kinda surprised they hadn't shown their faces sooner, honestly. But if they thought they'd get anything from them, they were stupider than Hank'd thought.

He parked his car slowly, even though he was very tempted to run over one or two of them to drive his point across their tiny brains; Interview ain't gonna happen. He finally passed the barricade Leblanc and Friedman held around the front lawn, got out under the flashes and camera-shutters, protecting his eyes with an arm.

“Lieutenant !-”

“Could you say a few words about...”

“Is it true you adopted-”

“Connor-”

“RK800-”

“An android ?-”

“What about your real son-”

“Cole-”

The rest turned to muddled white-noise; Hank's blood ran cold, then hot, and then he had his fist planted in the nearest journalist's mug, the one that-

“What the fuck !” He heard himself scream. “Who the fuck-” He didn't know what he was trying to say, what there was to say. What the hell ? The vulture had fallen like a brick, and Hank wanted to keep bashing his head in. What kind of-

But he didn't. The pure, unadulterated rage tapered off as quickly as it had surged, and he was left standing above the guy, a few sets of hands holding him by the arm. He saw the journalist squirming on the ground for the first time, a rat-looking asshole holding his blood-pissing nose.

“Connor's my real son, too. Fuck you.” Sumo put himself between him and the guy on the ground, pushing him not so subtly away and toward his house. Hank put his hand on the big dog's head, the one that doesn't have blood on it, and followed the dog's lead before the weasel could say anything, or before the urge to bash his head in came back with a vengeance.

When he shut the door after Jayden entered, he deflated, sagging against the door. He could still hear the shouting outside, but he didn't give a shit. He appreciated that Jayden didn't say anything, didn't stare at him; The guy'd been looking around the living room, and now looked at Connor's bookshelf.

When he was sure his legs wouldn't give out, he propped himself back up, and went to the fridge to grab a-

No, to grab a soda. He was allowed soda after long days, even though he'd had to fight for that right with his sons.

'Hank, it's not good for you,' they'd both argued, their expressions of disapproval identical. He plopped down on his sofa and turned the TV on for background noise. He felt so fucking heavy, and it had nothing to do with the big pile of dog that plopped on his lap. He put his head in his hand, sighed heavily. Fuck that day, honestly. They'd found nothing. Jack shit. Connor had to be somewhere, for fuck's sake. Was he alone ? Was there a reason he wasn't coming back ? Maybe he was fucking trapped, or worse, maybe there were no bodies left-

“Are you alright, Lieutenant ?” Asked Co-

What ?

Hank turned toward Jayden, sitting beside him and looking at him with inquisitive brown eyes, and god... Did he have to sound so much like...

“Lieutenant ?”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm...” He answered, a hand waving in the air. “I'm dandy.”

“Right... Good.” The kid looked like he didn't buy that for a second, but tough luck, right ? Hank sighed again, not that unsettled by the staring, unblinking kid next to him as he should be; He had practice after all.

“The bedroom's at the end of the corridor,” Hank pointed behind him. “The bathroom's on the right and there's food in the fridge.”

The evening went by quietly; At least Jayden knew when not to insist on the case, unlike-

Shit, what the fuck was wrong with him, comparing...

When he got up that night for his usual business, he found an empty living room; no TV, no Richard working on his cases, no Connor... Fuck. He'd find him, for fuck's sake !

He woke up bleary-eyed in the morning, not to his alarm, but to his ringtone. He didn't check caller id.

“Who the fuck is it ?” He mumbled into his pillow.

“Hank.” Oh fuck. Jeff. “The guy lodged a complaint against you.” Fucker.

“Oh, really,” he chuckled darkly while Jeff grunted, for a change.

“His lawyer's asking for your suspension.” Straight to the point, huh.

Hank didn't have the strength to argue anything, honestly. It didn't matter if he was suspended, anyway, it's not like he'd stop looking for his kid. It might even be easier.

“But well, you're on official leave since yesterday afternoon, and you didn't use either your badge or your gun on the guy, so they don't really have a foot to stand on on this particular point.” Oh. Well. Shit, he was actually kind of disappointed, huh ? “They're still pressing charges though.”

“Asshole...” He mumbled, and Jeff blew a heavy breath.

“What did he say ?” Hank was half tempted to dismiss the question, Jeff wouldn't take it badly, but right now he wasn't talking to his captain, but to his friend.

“He made some allusions. Like Connor not being my 'real' son, and what about-” Hank marked the slightest of pauses. “I think they were saying I'm trying to replace Cole.” Jeff didn't say anything right away, let Hank breathe in and out for a few seconds.

“Asshole,” his friend finally said, before sighing. “I'll get the legal team on it. Keep looking for your kid.”

He trudged out of his room begrudgingly, got about his morning routine, his attention falling on the empty couch, the silent TV, the melancholic dog splayed on the couch where Connor slept... Fuck.

He'd received an update from Richard, but there was no good news, unfortunately. As the hour passed, he wondered if he'd have to go and wake Jayden, and wasn't that a weird thought, him, having to wake up someone to get to work on time.

But he didn't have to wonder too long, because the door opened on a bundled up FBI agent, carrying a box of what Hank assumed to be breakfast stuff.

“Good morning, Lieutenant,” the kid smiled when he saw him.

Hank went to sit on the couch, nudging Sumo out of the way, snatched a pastry from the box Jayden had put there, before reluctantly turning the TV on. And yep, here it was, the footage of him docking that asshole. The title underneath the footage stated 'Police violence on the rise ?'

“What the fuck,” he scoffed, because honestly ? That's what they relayed ? Not the asshole's inappropriate comment ? Fucking misinformation... Hank watched silently as the news spewed its nonsense.

_'-Following the reappearance of Prototype RK800 Connor, nicknamed Zlatko's soldier, Lieutenant of police Henry Anderson adopted the android, even though proven guilty for aiding the 'Butcher of Detroit' Zlatko Andronikov...'_

Was it even legal to say all this bullshit ?

Next to Hank, Jayden'd had the great idea of ignoring this pile of shit; The agent, his VR glasses on, waved his hands in the air, focused and silent.

Where the fuck could they look ? Where the hell could a CyberLife's secret lab be at ? Why the hell couldn't they find any employee records anywhere ? It wasn't like their destruction of evidence had prevented them from drowning in lawsuits anyway. All the higher-ups had disappeared into thin air, Kamski himself was no help, what the fuck was going on with this fucking ghost company anyway ?

He hated having no clue where to look, hated that he couldn't come up with anything, his mind blank and unhelpful. It had happened before, and according to his doc, it was a normal emotional response to shock, being numb like that. Yeah, alright, but right now it wasn't helpful, for fuck's sake.

He hated that it was happening all over again; He was right back two and a half years ago, desperately looking for Connor. The dwindling hope as the months passed, the helplessness, the giving up...

“Lieutenant ?” Jayden brought him out of his thoughts. The kid looked at him with concern, head tilted toward him like a clueless puppy.

“Yeah ?” He said gruffly, not up for another display of his fucked-upness. Fortunately, the kid seemed to take the hint.

“I think I found something interesting,” he started, and then with a flick of his wrist, the garbage on TV turned into an internet page; It looked like a forum, but Hank would be fucked to know what the fuck it was beyond that. “A collective of people have been following and digging around Connor's past.” As he said that, an official-looking, crappy quality photo of Connor appeared on screen; He wasn't wearing anything Hank had ever seen him wear; Simple white scrubs with android insignia on them, the triangle, the armband, the serial number and all that jazz. The kid had no expression on his face as he looked straight into the camera. Hank couldn't help but look closer at the photo, and fuck him !

“That's-” He pointed at the kid's serial number, at the last two numbers. “Dash Forty-five...” He couldn't tear his eyes away from the photo. That was- “Where the fuck did they find this ?” The whole of DPD and FBI hadn't found jack-shit, and a bunch of nerds had a photo of a Top-Secret prototype on their site, like that, on display ?

“We could go and ask, I've contacted them, and they'd be happy to help find him.” Hank, wide-eyed and vibrating, finally turned to the agent.

“Fuck yeah !”


	8. Connor Army

Hank was ready to go meet those dudes, just a group of people that had decided, for some reason, to fixate on everything RK800 related. From what Hank understood, it sounded like conspiracy theorists and fanatics, but whatever; Hank would take anything at this point. Richard was almost done with his search of the tower, and he'd come up empty. Absolutely no discrepancies. Fuck. He sent the kid the news about the collective, its address, and he'd assured he'd meet them there, so no need to wait for him.

On the road they went again. Fortunately the weather was a bit less shitty than the day before. They made their way to a kinda crappy suburb in the shadow of the bullet-train tracks. The house they parked in front looked ready to crumble, and there weren't any cars parked in front of it, no trash cans, and the snow in front of the porch looked undisturbed. Did they have the wrong address ? Before Hank could voice his doubts, Jayden exited the car, barely waiting for him to follow.

The door opened before they could knock, and the young person brandished a scanner right in their faces, Sumo wagging his tail when they did the same to him, looked at whatever results they found on it before pocketing the device with a smile.

“No trackers and no bugs,” they said, opening the door wide enough for them to come in. “We can never be too careful.”

Hank grunted eyes roaming around the mostly empty living room; Two couches, a bookshelf, a long table, and a few chairs. Nothing fancy, but everything was clean and in good condition, contrary to what the outside of the house might let believe.

“Follow me,” their host invited, corraling toward a door under a staircase. Hank had seen his fair share of converted basements, and his fair share of cyber set-ups. This one could win some kind of 'best of' medal; One wall was completely covered by the sort of servers that used to only be in specialised companies. Huge cables, glowing red, blue, yellow, green, snaked across the floor and connected to a dozen of flatscreens, all occupied by people. Very young people. The oldest Hank could spot couldn't be more than twenty-five. Some of them sported Cyberpunk looks like they were straight out of a sci-fi movie. And they all looked at the newcomers with wide eyes and huge grins.

“Huh,” Hank said eloquently.

“It's an honor to meet you, sir,” a woman came up to him, limping slightly. Hank wasn't an expert, but thanks to both his sons and Jeff, he knew a military stance when he saw one.

“What is it with all those kids honored to meet me ?” He asked, pointedly looking at Jayden. The agent had been transfixed by the server until then.

“Well, you are the human liaison with New Jericho, and the youngest Lieutenant to-”

“Alright, alright, enough,” Hank interrupted, then looked back at all the awed faces wincing. “How about we start... whatever it is we're here to start.” Fortunately, the woman that had greeted him took pity on him.

“Yes, let's,” she smiled, and then showed them to her screen, showing dozens of photos of... Connor, holy shit. None of which he'd ever seen, or even knew where they'd been taken. On most of them, he wore a non-descript military android outfit, a perfectly blank expression, and a big-ass rifle that looked suspiciously like the one he'd sported on that roof, three years ago... On some others, he wore that white scrub Hank had seen earlier on the website. “We've been on this project for a little over four years now,” she said, taking a seat in front of the screen. “How about I start at the beginning ?”

* * *

Her specialised team had been deployed somewhere in the middle-east, the exact location she could not share, for secrecy reasons. Their mission had been pretty straight-forward; Lace the enemy base's computer systems with deadly viruses and spywares, the first a counter-measures if the second were found out. The mission itself had been a roaring success. The extraction didn't turn out so easy. Enemy soldiers intercepted them, proceeded to hold them captive and try to make them talk. None of them did, and for an agonizing five ? Seven ? Ten days ? None of them knew if they'd ever see the light of day again, a whiff of freedom, the faces of their loved ones...

Until an explosion made their captors look away from their painful work. Until the screams of their comrades made them leave the room. Until silence engulfed everything. Bound by the wrists and ankle to a metal chair, she had already given everything with her struggles in the past days. She didn't know if the rest of her team was still alive. The bunker's heavy steel door opened on a soldier she'd never seen before. There were no markings indicating the side he was on, but she could identify an American rifle when she saw one; Even though she'd never seen one quite so huge before.

“Hafsa Hess, I've come to rescue your team,” the soldier said as he unbound her from her restraints. He looked her over, hesitated when he reached her stump, and then he looked around. “Do you know where your prosthetic might be ?” While he'd... Scanned her ? She'd had time to remove her gag and start to realise she was being rescued.

“I- I'm not- Not sure,” she answered, her throat dry from dehydration, the pain of the last few days making itself known. The soldier looked back at her, and promptly placed himself at her side, putting her arm around his shoulders, his arm around her waist. He must have felt her shuddering because he didn't move right away.

“Are you alright ?” He asked, his eyes boring into hers.

“Ye- Yeah, just wanna get outta here.” She didn't elaborate, and neither did he. He pulled her from the chair with surprising ease; She wasn't exactly scrawny. They made their way down a dirty concrete corridor. “What's your name ?” She asked, more as a distraction from pain and her rising panic than by real interest.

“Classified,” he answered as they reached the door next to where she'd been kept. He deftly unlocked and opened the heavy door and behind there was Kramer, just as bound and gagged and beaten as she was. Kramer's eyes were huge when he finally looked up; From relief, joy... Confusion too.

They marched down the bunker, found their teammates, and despite their savior's insistence that all enemy presence had been wiped out, they high-tailed it out of here as fast as they could manage; Her limping in the soldier's hold, Valdez struggling to keep upright between Kramer's and Harper's arms. The soldier led them to a hidden vehicle and drove them back to base.

“You'll be alright,” he turned to them with a soft smile when Valdez started to panic. “You're going home.”

They finally reached base, and as the rest of her team was transported to the infirmary, she lagged behind long enough to see the mystery soldier get swarmed by technicians. One immediately plugged a monitoring output system into the back of his neck. An android. She'd never seen that model before. He didn't have any markers, not even an LED. A medic came for her with a wheelchair just as he turned his attention on her. He tilted his head to the side, and smiled at her reassuringly.

She'd asked about that android. She'd asked what regiment he'd come from, how the fuck did a single android manage to take out a whole enemy base, asked and asked and... She never got any answers.

Not from the army. Not from Cyberlife. But she didn't really need them, did she ? Her team was discharged upon their recovery, and they started looking on their own. At first it was simple curiosity. Curiosity from the peculiar, single android that had saved their lives. Then it was about government conspiracies and CyberLife cover-ups about android 'malfunctions' and illegal prototypes and they were joined by more curious people. Then it was about uncovering exactly the extent of CyberLife's knowledge on deviancy and RK800's project and their little group turned into a small army.

* * *

“And from a couple of days ago, it became about finding what happened to Connor.”

Hank'd been scrutinizing each and every photo while Hess recounted her story, her encounter with Connor during the war. Only three of those showed his iteration; Forty-five, forty-six and forty-seven. No other photo showed him wearing android insignias. In none of those photos did he show any kind of expression, and it was weird; Hank was used to seeing androids emote, and he was used to androids not wearing any signs of being androids. But never both at the same time. It was more than weird, it was unnerving.

“What d'you mean, 'what happened to Connor' ?” Okay, the media was biased and showed exactly what it wanted to show, but Hank also knew the shooting had been relayed non-stop, everywhere since it had happened. “We know what happened to him, what I want is find where he is.” Hafsa raised her hands in surrender then turned back to her computer.

“We're also looking into that,” she placated. “But we've noticed some really weird stuff while we were at it.” First, she pulled out the footage of that day, when Connor was- Was shot. It was paused before anything had happened, and Hank was grateful. He also noticed he'd never seen that angle of footage before. Hess mutely gestured at the boy next to her to pull up something on his own computer screen; The criminal record of... Joziah Faulkner.

His son's killer. Hank just then realised he hadn't bothered to learn the fucker's name. The photo on the file showed an emaciated, belligerent man; He was clearly a Red Ice addict. He stood in front of Hank, eyes wide and red, dirty coat and Hank didn't have time to react before he was pushed to the ground before the deflagration ended his life once again-

“Hank,” Connor's voice pulled him out of his nightmare. Hank turned around dumbly. “Are you okay ?” Richard asked, brows furrowed in concern.

“When...” He started to ask, before noting the others staring quietly, standing a lot closer than just a moment ago.

“Just now,” Rich answered anyway, his attention drifting to the screen behind Hank. His eyes narrowed, his lips thinned into a sharp line and his LED spun red for a long second. Then he looked over Hank's other side, nodded to whoever, whatever. “This seems like it's going to take a while,” he said. “You should sit down.” He had his hands on Hank's shoulders. Since when ? And pushed him down into a comfortable gamer chair that had appeared somehow just under his ass. “You're old after all,” Richard's poker face quirked into a shit-eating grin. Hank stared, the comment sinking in and taking him out of his spiraling thoughts.

“Well,” he snorted when his brain finally kicked back into gear, “Fuck you too, son.” There were some eyebrows raised, a few confused expressions, but Hess cleared her throat and redirected the attention to her.

“Alright, so we should probably start with Faulkner,” she said. Hank looked back at the screen with the dude's criminal record. He wondered for half a second how they accessed the police databases, but he really didn't give a shit right now. There was no effort needed to ignore that illegal piece of info. “Because why the hell would he want to kill Connor, right ?”

“He was probably high on Red Ice and blew a fuse,” Hank answered simply. Who gave a fuck anyway, the guy was dead.

“Hmm, but you see, he had absolutely no ties to androids; He didn't actively hate them; He wasn't part of any anti-android groups. He didn't have any friends to 'avenge' from the deviant hunter...” She looked at Hank for a second, an apologetic look on her face. “Except Faulkner was a junkie and Zlatko was a supplier, right ?”

Hank frowned.

“How the fuck would you know that ? The investigation's ongoing...” Hess pursed her lips.

“Trade secret ?” She offered. “He's suspected for supplying half the city in thirium, right ? What if Faulkner worked for him somehow ?”

“But why would he-” Hank started.

“That could actually make sense,” Richard interrupted, his LED spinning yellow, eyes lost in the middle distance; Running calculations and predictions then. “Maybe not working for Zlatko, but any number of other dealers...” His eyes refocused on Hank then. “We need to interrogate Andronikov.”


	9. Encryption

“As much as I'd like that to happen,” Hank started, “You know it won't, right ?” Richard frowned for half a second before understanding what he'd meant.

“Of course, I didn't mean 'us' specifically. All previous attempts at questioning Andronikov have been met with silence.” His LED spun again, his brows furrowed, focused. Then a grin that promised murder spread on his face, but he didn't add anything. What was he planning, exactly ?

“So, huh,” Hess cleared her throat to get Hank's attention again, “We've also looked into the media's presence that day,” she gestured at the still footage on her computer.

Something horrible spread through Hank's chest at the sight; It was drone footage from above the 'scene', making it all look almost unreal, like in an old top-down perspective game. “We found some leaked info about you going there, stamped from even before you stepped out of your house,” she explained, typing on her computer to bring up some blog articles, big titles that screamed _'Deviant Hunter to give a statement !'_ or _'Zlatko's soldier finally brought to justice !'_

Hank, for one, was completely done with the media's bullshit, and maybe he'd counter last night's journalist's complaint with his own defamation lawsuit. That could be fun, right ?

“The info about your coming to the station was strictly internal to your precinct and a couple of FBI agents,” the woman continued, waving toward Jayden absently.

Hank was not going to ask how the fuck they knew all that. He did not give a shit right now.

“So it got us wondering how the media knew you'd be there.” Hess' fingers danced across her keyboard, typing at the speed of light, and up popped more article screenshots on her screen; She pointed at one of them, announcing _'RK800 at 6_ _th_ _precinct 14:20; 06/03'_.

“This press dispatch is the oldest we could trace, it was circulating the day before it happened.” “How the fuck is it possible ? Connor made up his mind in the evening, and I only told Jeff.” Hess pursed her lips.

“Your Captain, right ? Maybe... You should call him and ask ?” Hank frowned at the idea of what she was implying. No way Jeff would... Betray them like that. No fucking way that was possible. As if she'd read his mind, Hess went on: “If he can give you a list of people he told, it could narrow our search; The dispatch flooded every news agency, so it's taking time to retrace. We're nearly there, but well, if you can ask, it would make things easier.”

Hank was not happy as he took his phone out to call his friend. Something tightened in his chest; The dread of finding out exactly what his captain was responsible for, the horrible pang of guilt at even thinking him capable of- Of anything like that-

_'Hank ?'_

“Jeff. Who did you tell we'd be at the station that day after I called you ?” Hank went straight to the point. There was a long silence that made Hank's vision swim and his heart stutter.

 _'The squad,'_ he finally answered, and went on to list every officer he'd briefed; Collins, Reed, Chen, Blake, Felix, Person, and the Wilsons. _'I had to coordinate the team that'd be there, make sure it'd be safe... How that turned out...'_ He mumbled the last words. _'Why ? I'm afraid to know where this is going.'_ God. Fuck, how could Hank have thought his friend would- No, he had to focus.

“Yeah, there might be a snitch, alright,” he spat out, rubbing his eyes to try and alleviate the pressure behind them. “Someone must have snitched to the media because they knew we'd be there almost immediately after I called you.”

 _'Fuck,'_ Jeff blew out. _'I'll check the cameras, see if I can spot someone being suspicious.'_

“Yeah, you do that,” Hank said, then hung up.

He took a second to breathe before re-engaging the conversation, letting his heart settle down. When he looked up again, his attention wandered to Hess' screen, where a couple of Connor's photos were still visible among all the other windows. One caught his eyes more than the others; The android, despite clearly being Connor, looked... Younger somehow. Much younger, not even twenty if Hank had to guess. So he asked.

“Those photos are pretty much all we could salvage, so I'm just speculating,” Hess answered, attention set on her screen. “We think they tested his appearance and the effect it had on people. That's what he looked like when I met him.” Right. The kid had said something like that, right ? So that's the look he'd told him about... No wonder the assholes of CyberLife modified it. 'Designed to facilitate integration', or something. No way the kid would've been taken seriously as a detective, looking like a damn baby.

“Where did you find those anyway ?” He asked, brows furrowed, waving at the photos. Hess took a second to reply, lips pinched, but finally let out a sigh.

“I guess one more crime wouldn't change anything at that point, but can you settle for 'Secret-Defense' ?” She winced, waiting for Hank's answer. Eh, fuck it, they'd uncovered more than anyone else at that point, he wouldn't give them any shit.

“Yeah, alright.” There was another matter he needed to get to anyway. “So you said you looked into where he could be,” he said to get back on track. The woman blinked, clearly surprised, but seemed to cling to Hank's subject change with relief.

“Yeah, so,” she swiveled in her chair, calling up yet another flurry of windows; The CyberLife employees' list with a few highlighted names, as well as a few opened personnel files, photos of scientists looking back at Hank with dead eyes. “That's the hard part. I mean, we're all very good here,” she waved around, encompassing every one of her friends in the basement, “but CyberLife wasn't half bad either. We still haven't managed to find any of the RK800 team, or any mention of the project.”

“Fuck,” Hank couldn't help but spit out. He shouldn't have let himself hope too much after all.

“Well,” she added quickly, “but we've only been at it for a day and a half, so we're still confident.” Hank groaned, but before he could do anything else, Hess continued. “Also, we've had an idea; It might not lead to anything, but there's nothing to lose.” She turned to Richard then, who until then stood ram-rod straight, and only his hand moved, spinning his pen across his knuckles. Hank knew the kid was barely keeping it together, and he startled when Hess called his name, turning to her with his LED spinning red.

“Yes ?” he blinked, frowned, and waited.

“It wouldn't be surprising that your developers were the very same that made Connor,” the woman explained. “The RK800 was a covert prototype, but your model was the finished version, supposed to be released to the public. Do you know who worked on your model ?” Richard's LED spun yellow as he searched for an answer.

“No,” he answered, LED going red again, his face twisting in a pained expression. Hank reached for the kid's arm and squeezed in silent support. “I was activated for the first time well after the revolution, I've never met any CyberLife employee.” Fucking another dead-end. Hank was starting to suspect that damn company really was a mass hallucination, after all.

“It's alright, don't worry,” Hess waved her hands in a placating gesture. “What we were thinking is looking for an Easter Egg in your code.”

“Fuckin' what now ?” Hank asked, because he was the only technology-incompetent one in the room, and he wasn't sure they'd explain what the fuck that was without incentive.

“Most coders like to leave signatures in their work. It can be a literal _'Scrooge McGee wrote this'_ , or it can be as simple as a writing style.” Hank must have made a face, because Hess paused before explaining that. “Just like an expert could recognise for exemple, King's writing style from say, Poe's or whatever else writer. Every coder has their own unique writing style, and we could try to match Richard's code to our database of...” She side-eyed Hank, her train of thought seemingly coming to a halt. “Well, for short, we could try to find Richard's coders. And Connor's by extension.”

Richard had no hesitation; As soon as Hess had finished her sentence, the skin of his hand receded.

“Go ahead,” he offered his naked hand to the woman.

“We're gonna need to plug you to the server directly, I think,” she smiled apologetically. Richard froze, then retracted his hand.

“Yes. Of course,” he cleared his throat.

Hank got out of his chair and had to force his kid to take it. The Lieutenant didn't know how having a cable jammed into your neck could possibly feel, but he wasn't about to let Richard having to stand up for it, despite his reassurance that he was perfectly fine standing up, Hank, honestly.

But Hank was the most stubborn of the two, and so Richard sat down and proceeded to reveal the hole in the back of his neck. One of the hacker-kid approached with a fat, green-glowing braided cable, and plugged it into his neck, his whole frame relaxing suddenly. Hank huffed, injecting as much 'told you so' as he could into it, making Richard roll his eyes and smirk softly.

“Just because I cannot move doesn't mean I cannot stand, Hank,” he answered as if he'd read his mind.

Eyes half-lidded and unmoving, Richard followed Hess and her friends' instructions, something about coding Hank had no hope of understanding, so he didn't bother trying to.

Off to the side, Jayden was observing everything like a hawk, having said nothing since they'd arrived. He didn't seem the type to be too uptight about rules, but Hank wondered if the FBI agent would decide to say anything about the clear criminal activities going on down here. Hank'd have to talk to him after this.

“Oh !” Hess' exclaimed, “I think this is it !” Her grin widened as she started typing frantically at her keyboard. Hank, wide-eyed, turned to Richard. The kid didn't seem too happy; Instead, he looked confused.

“I don't understand, what have you found ?” Apparently, Hess was too focused on her writing, because another kid answered.

“There, this line of code right here,” the person that had greeted them at the door answered, their typing less frantic than Hess'. But Richard furrowed his brows again.

“You've pinged at nothing,” he said, and it was the kid's turn to look confused. They typed one more time at their keyboard, and Richard shook his head. “Nothing.” At that, Hess turned around, with the same perplexed expression as everyone else.

“Huh. Interesting,” was all she said after checking her friend's screen.

“What's going on ?” Hank intervened, because what the fuck ?

“Come look at the screen,” she answered, gesturing at both him and Richard. The kid, still plugged at the neck, simply looked over. “See that highlighted line of code there ?” Hess pointed at her friend's screen.

“Yeah ?” Hank asked, and;

“No,” Richard answered. Okay, that was weird, because even Hank could see it.

“Oh, that's really interesting,” Hess continued. “What _do_ you see then ?”

“A section of my code. I have no idea what you want me to say.”

“Read that section there ?” Hess' friend asked, and Richard obliged. Hank followed the text as Richard read, but then he skipped the highlighted bit entirely, landing on the next line as if nothing was wrong.

“You've skipped a line.” Rich squinted at the screen, his LED spun yellow.

“No I haven't,” he concluded.

“Bertold, come over here ?” Hess beckoned over her shoulder, staring at Richard still. Bertold didn't have an LED, but Hank recognised him as an android immediately; He was a Traci, had the exact same appearance as Officer Felix. “Can you read that bit for us ?”

“Sure,” the android said, and read the same bit as Richard. And skipped the same line too. There was a few seconds of silence.

“Sweet mother of encryption,” Hess marveled in a whisper, stars in her eyes.


	10. ShitBag

“What does it mean ?” Hank hated that he was so clueless.

“It means that little bit of code has been... Let's say rendered invisible to androids. You've probably come across CAPTCHA when you were younger right ? This is the same principle, mostly.” Hank ignored the little jab, ignored Rich's playful snicker; He knew he was old, no need to rub it in his face. He wasn't about to ask them how it worked, he'd take their words at face value.

“Why would they do that though ?” Because he still had to understand some stuff. Hess shrugged, looking back at the invisible bit of coding. “What does it say ?” Hank asked, waving at the screen.

“Dunno, it's encrypted. I mean, on top of being rendered invisible to androids, it's encoded.” Hank squinted. “We'll have to run it through some decoding software. I'm really interested to know if there's more of those hidden lines...” She mumbled, clearly losing herself in her thoughts, back to her mad typing. Hank turned to Richard, frowning at the screen and his LED spinning slow yellow since he'd been plugged.

“So... How long will it take to decrypt it ?”

“Well, it's CyberLife's work, so I really couldn't tell. A couple days ? Maybe more.” Fucking hell, they'd have to wait that long ? Hank felt so useless. Again.

There was nothing else to learn at that moment. They'd copied Richard's code to try and find more of those encrypted lines, planning to unearth them with the help of the two androids in their team. They assured them they'd call as soon as they found something useful in that suspect coding; In the meantime, they had an asshole to interrogate.

Although Jayden was actually accredited to interrogate him, setting up an interrogation with Andronikov wasn't gonna be easy; The fucker was high profile, suspected of being dipped in every criminal activity in the city. But Richard had said something very interesting; Zlatko hadn't talked. Apparently, he'd answered every question by claiming he 'didn't fear prison, and he certainly didn't fear the police'. Which begged the question, who _did_ he fear ? But more pressing was that Hank could use this to his advantage; He could argue that if anyone could make the son of a bitch talk, it was him. Connor's dad. He'd only have to not break the motherfucker's face when- If he came face to face with him.

They had an appointment set for the afternoon by the time they reached town, and stopped at a diner near Detroit's Detention Center to wait it out. The lunch was spent in awkward silence, Richard lost in thought, pen twirling in his hand, Jayden occasionally taking his VR glasses off to chug down some coffee and fries. Under the table, Sumo was splayed on both Hank's and Richard's feet, his tail whacking the floor lazily. Hank could have tried to say something, but honestly, it was kind of nice to have some peace and quiet.

Prison security wasn't unlike the military's. They did evoke the possibility of not letting Sumo in on the account that an android dog could be a security hazard. To which Hank answered with a raised finger and the threat of legal proceedings. They made their way along the white corridors led by a guard. Hank and Richard had only been permitted to stay in the observation room while Jayden would go in there to interrogate the fucker. Said fucker's lawyer was already in the room when they took place. There were a few polite words of greetings, and then they waited for Andronikov to be shuffled in there.

It was only when Sumo nudged his hand with his big wet snout that Hank noticed he was tense as a bow, ready to snap a neck. He patted Sumo's head and breathed out, turned his attention on Richard. Still and silent, the only proof Richard was actually alive and not just a wax mannequin was the frantic red spin of his mood ring.

“Rich,” Hank called lowly before reaching for him; The kid was military, and touching him without warning wasn't really a good idea. He barely reacted as Hank squizzed his shoulder in silent support.

The door finally opened, and in came three guards flanking Andronikov. The sack of shit was chained at the ankles and wrists, but he walked in as if he owned the place. He didn't look like he was in an uncomfortable position. His injuries had healed and he infuriatingly looked healthier than when Hank had last seen him; He was clean, for one. He seemed in better shape, as if prison was just a high-end fitness center. What a joke. Hank pondered the possibility of negotiating a torture session or two, alone with the dickbag and a few sharp tools.

Andronikov sat slowly, deliberately, and reclined on his chair like he was home and making himself comfortable on his sofa; All he needed was a cold beer. Jayden looked almost comically tiny in comparison, and there was no doubt in Hank's mind that he wouldn't last a second in a physical confrontation against Andronikov.

The agent didn't raise his head from his tablet on the table. He didn't acknowledge the newcomer in any way, and for a horrible second, Hank wasn't sure the kid had even noticed; In the couple of days he'd known Jayden, the man had a terrible tendency to forget about the world around him.

But no. This was calculated, Hank realised. Jayden flicked the pages on his tablet, studying whatever he was studying with focus, silence engulfing the room. Although Zlatko's lawyer seemed to grow impatient, the fucker himself didn't look bothered in the slightest. In fact, he seemed calm and relaxed, bored even.

Finally, Jayden looked up, hands crossed on the table, head cocked to the side, eyes scanning Andronikov slowly.

“Are there going to be questions,” the lawyer finally broke the silence with a frustrated huff, “or have you just decided to waste everybody's time ?” Jayden pursed his lips and furrowed his brows. He'd won. Given it was only the lawyer that had snapped and not Zlatko himself, but well, small victories and all that.

“Eh, I don't mind,” Zlatko said with a smirk, and here it was, Jayden's complete victory; Alright, it wasn't much, and it looked kind of a petty move, like a game of 'King of silence'. But there weren't many ways to 'assert dominance' when faced with men like Zlatko.

“Have you studied the RK800's memory transfer system ?” Jayden asked with almost naïve curiosity that made Andronikov's brows shoot up in surprise.

“What ?” He reared back a bit, clearly not ready for that question. Jayden feigned confusion over the other's confusion.

“I've been studying the RK800 myself. A fascinating model with even more fascinating features. But the most interesting is its memory transfer system.” Jayden looked down at his tablet, flicked something on it, and Hank had to remind himself this was part of an act. Even so, hearing the kid call Connor an 'it' made his blood boil. “Obviously I haven't been able to study it personally, since any and all record of its manufacturing has been destroyed,” he continued, mouth quirking down on one side, for all intents and purposes looking dejected. “No one has been able to find any of the technicians that worked on that model, so you're basically the only one that has any first-hand experience of it.”

A smug grin started spreading on Andronikov's fucking face. Hank vaguely noticed Sumo's whining and the insistent, slobbery nudging of his hand. It took him everything to not hit a wall or maybe yell until his throat hurt.

“What do you want to know ?” He asked, barely bothering to hide his satisfied sneer.

“Everything you can tell me about it, really,” Jayden gave a blazing smile. “All I've heard is...” he let his voice trail, then leaned a bit over the table, a conspirational look on his face. “There's a possibility its memories might be stocked somewhere ?”

“And why do you want to know ?” Zlatko also leaned forward, mockingly imitating Jayden's whispering.

“Well,” Jayden looked sideways, looking for his words. “You know how they say it might have been destroyed for a reason ?” Zlatko nodded, not the slightest bit surprised. He knew about that. He fucking knew it hadn't been a random killing. “I think maybe... If the right person finds where those memories are stashed, they could prevent... The wrong information reaching the wrong people.” Andronikov's brows furrowed, eyes squinting in obvious suspicion. He leaned a bit more over the table. And then...

“There might be a thing...”

* * *

He was an honest man, doing an honest job. Buying broken bots, fixing them and selling them for cash. Some of them he kept for himself; Not many people enjoyed his artworks, but that didn't bother him. He made regular cash. And then came the fucking 'Android Revolution'. Suddenly he wasn't a droid repairman anymore, he was a trafficker. Suddenly he wasn't an artist anymore, he was a sick bastard. What a fucking joke.

But there were still people with common sense around. That remembered androids were fucking machines, not _sentient beings_. People that would buy thirium and bio-components. For their personal collection, or whatever other reason. He wasn't one to pry. But procuring new androids wasn't an easy thing anymore. You couldn't just go to a scrapyard to buy half-busted bot carcasses anymore; Those were controlled by Jericho. There weren't that many newly, confused deviants to lure in anymore, and the rare instances were immediately led to their RoboJesus. RoboJesus... What a fucking joke.

So when the Deviant Hunter just- Waltzed in, looking for two of his androids ? Clearly a once in a lifetime opportunity. He had Luther restrain it, plugged a nifty little paralyzing flash drive in its neck, and then it was his. But there's a thing about deviant androids' memories. No matter how many times you wipe them clean, they keep remembering. You'd be quietly working on one of them and suddenly they start crying and begging for mercy, for their _life_. What a fucking joke.

* * *

“I'd have thought the famous Deviant Hunter wouldn't be one of them crybabies, but turns out it was the worst of them. Always spluttering and blubbering for his 'Lieutenant, please, I want the Lieutenant',” the asshole fake-cried, derision dripping in his voice. “And then it devolved into crying for his 'Dad',” he made air-quotes, eyes rolling, “as if it thought it was a real boy. What a fucking joke. I had to take out its voice modulator just to get some damn peace.”

Hank wasn't sure if he was still breathing. He could barely see straight through his tears, and he was barely aware that he was pressing his hand too hard on his mouth. But it was the only thing keeping the gross sobs from escaping his aching throat.

“This had nothing to do with the memory back-up system,” he vaguely heard Jayden ask, impassive. The shit-stain scoffed, rested his arms on the table, and leaned heavily on it.

“You really take me for a goat, huh ? I know you work with that android fucker Anderson,” he whispered, grinning widely again. He slowly turned toward the one-way mirror. “And I know you're watching.”


	11. Mediatic war

Andronikov's sneer was [Obscene] and [Provoking]. He leaned back on his chair with a [Self-satisfied] expression, eyes still set on the mirror, attention set right between the two behind it.

“For all the trouble they're worth, it's sure great fun to play with deviants, you know, find the right way to break them,” he laughed heartily, ignoring his indignant lawyer and the FBI agent, visibly fighting to keep his expression neutral.

Richard was...

He wasn't sure. His overseer program was working overtime to try and level his fluctuating stress levels and emotional responses. It wasn't failing, it was... The opposite. The program had detected several risks of imminent violence, [Despair] threatening to overwhelm his processors, and had overcorrected by just- Flattening everything out. Richard had always been a deviant, but he thought that that's what not being it must feel like. The sight of Andronikov didn't stir anything in him, and he knew he would very much like to feel anger at not feeling anything right now. But even that was snuffed out.

The sound of Hank's sobbing tore Richard away from the window and on his father trying to smother his tears behind his hand. He should feel sad about that sight but he didn't. It didn't mean he couldn't initiate a hug, because that's what he'd have done in usual circumstances.

“Rich-” Hank hiccuped into his torso, “He was- Calling for me.” Those words had been more of a guessing work, his father making very little sense right now. Richard squeezed Hank's shoulders with the arm he had wrapped around him, attention trailing back to the table on the other side of the glass. Per Richard's calculations, he estimated the chances of Andronikov being useful barely above nil, and debated the risks and consequences of disposing of his life for a few seconds.

“Han... Father,” he said, voice calm and resolved. “This is negatively impacting our emotional states and I surmise is detrimental to our health. This interrogation is leading nowhere, and I advise that we leave the rest of it to agent Jayden.” He would've cringed at his own lack of emotions in his speech if he could've. Hank had stopped being unsettled by it a long time ago, explaining once that it was 'one of those quirks that made him him'.

“I'll kill him,” Hank answered, letting himself be led outside, his tears drying off, his pain snuffed by his anger. “I don't care when, I'll do it.” When his overseer program would calm down and his emotions returned, Richard had no doubt that he'd feel the same.

Richard demanded to be led to the exit, sending a message to the FBI agent while they followed the prison guard through the corridors. The distant clamor of prisoners accompanied them until they finally stepped out into the open.

Both Andersons stayed silent as they made their way to Hank's car, Sumo whining gently in the backseat. Richard turned the heater on for Hank's benefit. In his background processes, his overseer program kept flattening everything out relentlessly, making him dread the moment the program would inevitably make him crash and force him into stasis. He needed Hank's help, but Hank still seemed deep in his own troubled thoughts.

A low boof drew his attention toward the backseat; Sumo looked at him with his head tilted to the side, his gentle eyes observing him knowingly. Richard had never used Sumo's help, but maybe... As he reached for the dog's head, Sumo approached his big snout, then crept closer and crammed his upper half in-between the front seats to put his big head on Richard's lap.

>K9SB Sumo Anderson, Goodest Boy is asking to interface

>Accept ? **[►Y/N]**

>Message received from Sumo Anderson, Goodest Boy

>[ **♥** **(°** **σ** **◡** **σ** **)”\\(●ᴥ●ლ)** **づ♥** ]

 **>** **K9SB Sumo Anderson, Goodest Boy is asking to run** **[K9 Psychiatric service dog program]**

 **>** Accept ? **[►Y/N]**

.

 **>** **K9 Psychiatric service dog program** **diagnostic running...**

.

>Sumo Anderson is asking for [Overseer program] administrator rights

>Accept ? [►Y/N]

.

[⚠Warning !⚠]

[Overseer program forceful shutdown]

.

 **[Level of Stress: 85%]** ▲▲▲

**[⚠ High Stress Levels detected ⚠]**

.

>Message received from Sumo Anderson, Goodest Boy

>[ **♥** **(°ᴗ˳ᴗ) \“(ᴗᴥᴗლ)** **づ** **♥** ]

.

 **[Level of Stress: 50%]** **▼▼▼**

A tide of emotions swept Richard's artificial calmness away; Suddenly his throat felt too tight, His chest hurt, he felt the unexplainable urge to **scream.** Tears flowed down his cheeks and that was weird, because usually his overseer wouldn't allow that to happen, and he wanted to crawl into a tight space, or maybe hold something tight or maybe someone he wasn't sure, he didn't know what he wanted to do, but he needed to do something about the _hurt_ and maybe he shouldn't have left Sumo shutdown the overseer program because a gargling, unexpected weird sound ripped through his lips and he didn't like it at all.

“Son ?” Hank's voice reached his processors like his father wasn't standing right next to him but miles away.

“Hank, I don't like it,” he _sobbed_ . He never _sobbed._ “Dad-” He didn't have time to say any more, because then he was pulled into one of Hank's dad hugs, and oh, that's what he needed, he thought, because yeah that felt right. He reached out and reciprocated the hug, and maybe he was squeezing too tight, he wasn't sure, but Hank didn't say anything, so Richard didn't let go. Hank's big hand patted his head, and usually he'd find this a bit unbecoming, but right now he didn't care, and he finally understood why Connor liked the simple gesture so much.

God, Connor. He missed him so much.

**[Level of Stress: 60%]** ▲▲-

.

>Message received from Sumo Anderson, Goodest Boy

 **> [♥(°** **σ** **◡** **σ** **) ლ(●ᴥ●ლ)** **づ♥** **]**

They stayed like that until Jayden joined them. The agent silently slipped in the backseat, and Richard begrudgingly entangled himself from his father, positive that Hank wouldn't be the one to let go first. Richard cleared his throat and straightened the lapels of his jacket, and Hank ruffled his hair one last time before the moment was truly over, forcing the android to arrange his hair back in a neat and professional look.

In the back, the agent had been silently staring off into space, slumped in his seat and buckled up, a [Strained] look on his face. Hank, after starting the car, was the first to break the silence.

“Did he give anything useful ?” His voice was a bit wobbly still, but he had steeled his nerves and kept his eyes fully on the road as he entered the slow traffic of mid-afternoon.

“Not really. When I threatened to leave, he said he'd found something about Connor's cloud server, but it was another excuse to spew about his experiments. He wasn't aware you'd left.”

Seering anger threatened to overwhelm Richard again at those words, but Sumo sent a soothing wave of affection, allowing Richard to calm down on his own. It wasn't like with the Overseer program, which bypassed everything and didn't allow him to... Do anything; Sumo was just- Mitigating the overflow of emotional data, slowing it down to a manageable speed for his CPU to process without overclocking. He tried to avoid thinking too much about the fact that that's probably what Sumo did to support Connor when- When-

“Where should we look next ?” He asked to distract himself from the unhelpful memories of his brother's flashbacks and panic attacks.

“For now, I'm afraid we'll have to wait for the Cyber Collective to find new leads on Connor's location.” Agent Jayden sounded more [Subdued] than usual, and Richard suspected the young man hadn't slept much in the last few days.

“There's still that press dispatch thing the kids were talking about,” Hank answered, sounding like he, too, needed the distraction. “We could always look into that.”

“I think the Captain would ask you to steer clear of the press while the legal department sorts through Chester O'Brien's complaint,” Richard answered. “The journalist you punched,” he added when he saw Hank's confused expression. “I could take care of that,” he continued resolutely. “If you drop me off at the station, I could ask for a colleague to accompany me. I've already compiled a list of the journalists that were present that day, and cross-referenced it with the Cyber Collective's data.”

“Yeah, alright. Okay.” Hank turned right to get them in the direction of the precinct, then glanced at Richard for a brief moment. “You gonna be okay, son ?” His voice was [Soothing], and Richard hesitated before answering; He didn't like to lie -He was a terrible liar- but he wanted to keep the investigation going, and he wanted to keep active, and if he told Hank how the overseer program had very nearly wrung him out, his father wouldn't let him keep going without arguing, and they didn't have time for that. Besides, Sumo silently assured him he'd stay by his side, and with that, he felt like he wouldn't need to lie after all.

“I'll be alright,” he smiled. There was another silence then, not as uncomfortable as the previous one.

“We could also investigate deeper into Faulkner's background, I feel like there could be something important. And apparently, nobody bothered to do so yet.”

“Isn't that supposed to be _your_ job, though ?”

“... Oh. Right.”

* * *

_@ChannelNewsHeadlines:_

_'Even though RK800 was p roven guilty for aiding the 'Butcher of Detroit' Zlatko Andronikov, Lieutenant of police Henry Anderson adopted Zlatko's soldier...'_

_|_

_|@Ares GodOfWar reacted to:@ChannelNewsHeadlines_

_'Is your ass jealous of your mouth for spewing so much bullshit ? That's flagrant defamation, and you're not even objective. Buy yourselves some integrity'_

_|_

_|@MyMainMan reacted to: @AresGodOfWar_

_'Yet another Devil's advocate. Maybe YOU should buy yourself some opinion and stop defending those sick bastards'_

_@ChannelNewsHeadlines:_

_'Police violence on the rise ? Lieutenant of DPD Henry Anderson assaults journalist Chester O'Brien without provocation. Link to the footage bellow!'_

_|_

_|@SimpleGuy reacted to:@ChannelNewsHeadlines_

_'Without provocation my ass. The guy's on his own lawn and he just lost son, cut him some slack, you assholes'_

_|_

_|@ProudSoccerMom reacted to: @SimpleGuy_

_'Keep excusing police brutality and we'll be thrown 20 years back when the boys in Blue could murder people on the streets without consequences'_

_@AeneasTheWise:_

_'Use his name, Cowards. Connor Anderson was a victim of his programming like any other non-Deviant android was. He deserves respect and dignity.'_

_|_

_|@BabBitchOfBabylon reacted to: @AeneasTheWise_

_'As if any other Android ever murdered dozens of his kind and helped Andronikov torture dozens more. Have respect and dignity for the real victims and their families'_

_|_

_|@FreeSpirit reacted to: @BabBitchOfBabylon_

_'You're clearly not an Android or have never been non-Deviant, because then you'd know a non-Deviant can't disobey orders, whatever they are. He's a victim too'_

_|_

_|@FiveToesBetteThanNone reacted to: @FreeSpirit_

_'^^^ This. Also, Connor was a special military prototype, and CL put thousands of fail-safes on his program to make sure he wouldn't even be ABLE to deviate'_

_|_

_|@ColdFact reacted to: @FiveToesBetterThanNone_

_'Where did you find this bullshit ? I thought 'AlL oF cYbeRLifE's rEasERcH wAs deSTrOyeD' ? Or is that just a convenient lie ?'_


	12. Overseer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last Chapter before the end of the year, sorry for the wait, I was focusing on the Whumpmas challenge, but now it's done, I'll be back to (I hope) a chapter a week :)   
> Happy celebrations to y'all !

Hank needed some more incentive to drop Richard and Sumo at the precinct without trying to come with. Everything was still chaotic, and together with Agent Jayden, Richard finally convinced him he'd be fine. He watched the car drive away for a short while, just to make sure Hank wouldn't double down, then made his way into the precinct, resolutely ignoring the fluorescent splashes of Thirium on the pavement, or his programs trying to reconstruct the scene. Instead, he wove his fingers into Sumo's collar fur, and marched in the building with his head held high.

There were people at his brother's and father's desks. That made him stall long enough for Officer Chen to make her way up to him. Arms crossed, a small frown on, she looked [Concerned].

“Hey Rich. Everything alright ?” Although she asked that, she was already turning toward the two strangers sat some distance away. “Yeah,” She said with an [Apologetic] tone, “Internal Affairs needed some space to work, didn't really ask if it was alright with the Cap.” That made sense. Neither Hank nor Connor were working right now, so temporary guests taking their seats was perfectly logical. Still. “Aren't you supposed to be on leave, buddy ?” Officer Chen asked, her voice even softer than before.

“... Yes, but. I need to do something.” He finally succeeded in taking his eyes off the Internal Affairs Agents, and looked down at his colleague; Her eyes were [Sympathetic] and her lips a thin line of worry. “We've obtained some leads, and I need... Someone on the clock to make it official.” His voice was a bit strained, he knew, and Chen's expressions veered too much into [Worried] territory, so Richard forced a small grin on his face. The woman squinted a bit, before waving a hand in defeat.

“I'm sure you'll butter the Captain well enough to make that happen,” she said softly, before marching away with her own [Forced smile] on.

He and Sumo went to the Captain's office, ignoring the two intruders well enough that Richard managed not to tense up as he approached them. The defeated look of the Captain as he saw him approach almost warranted a small chuckle if he wasn't so wrung out emotionally already. Captain Fowler nodded as he approached the stairs to his office, so he entered without delay.

“What are you doing here, Anderson ?” The man sighed into his coffee mug.

“As you know, we've uncovered a new lead pertaining to my brother's- death.” He didn't want to pause there, didn't want to give the Captain a reason to refuse his help on the case, but Sumo had turned his Overseer program off. Saying those words aloud... Sumo nudged his big snout into Richard's hand, capping his stress levels as the emotional response made its way into his processors, such that the Captain's expression registered only a few seconds later; His brow raised, [Questionning] and [Skeptical] at the same time, his hands crossed and his elbows on his desk. He waited, patience warranted by the circumstances but aware a battle of stubbornness was about to take place.

“Sir, about that possible snitch the Lieutenant talked to you about on the phone, I have compiled a list of journalists that are the most likely to have further information about the source of the leak.”

“And I guess you want to dig into it yourself,” the Captain sighed heavily.

“With a partner, Sir, if you'll allow me.”

“And if I don't allow you ?” The man's eyes bore into Richard with steel and authority. Richard pursed his lips, returning the gaze with the same intensity. “Damn Andersons, always so fucking stubborn...” He reached for a tablet on his desk, shaking his head not in defeat, but with [Resignation]. “Reed, in my office.”

“So, where do we start ?” Sergent Reed asked once they were sat in his car, the heaters blowing at full strength in their faces. Richard reviewed his list of likely leads and picked the first name to start with. They'd make their way through the whole list if necessary.

“Roy Brennan, Reporter for Channel 16 News. He's one of thirty reporters that received a press dispatch that could only come from an inside source. According to several of my analysis programs, he has the highest chance of giving up his source with slight persuasion.”

“Inside source ? You mean we got a snitch ?” Reed had his arms crossed in the drivers' seat, frowning angrily at the road sliding by them. Richard relayed what the Cyber Collective had gathered to the Sergeant; There was a tight-knit group of colleagues that couldn't possibly have been the traitor, and Reed was one them. Richard was comforted in that knowledge by the [Sincere Anger] emanating from the string of curses that came out of his mouth for twenty whole seconds.

They let silence stretch for a while, Reed's anger coming down, giving place to a [Pensive] frown. Outside, the sky was bright white and reflecting on the glimmering pavement.

Whenever he thought about the reporter they were about to meet, a surge of anger rose through his CPUs, something wild and almost scary. He should be enabling his Overseer before reaching their destination, or he might lose his control; The Overseer often warned him of impending violence after all, so it meant without it, he might have resorted to it a lot. It was terrifying to think he had such little control over himself.

He took a decision; Turning his seat around, he beaconed for Sumo to come to him. His brother was too happy to indulge, and he put his head on his lap with a sigh.

>Message received from Sumo Anderson, Goodest Boy

> **[♥ლ(•ᴥ•ლ)** **づ♥** **]**

**.**

>[Sumo. You have to give me back the Overseer program's administrator rights. I have to turn it back on.]

.

>[? **ლ** (•́ **ᴥ** •̀ **ლ** ) **づ** **?]**

**.**

**>** [I cannot risk losing control when I meet the reporters, brother.]

.

>[🛇~ **ヘ** **(ᴗᴥᴗლ)** **づ♥** **]**

**.**

>[Sumo ? I need it, you've seen the reports earlier, right ? I can't risk resorting to violence.]

**.**

**> [**🛇~ **(°σ◡σ) d(•ᴥ•ლ)** **づ** ]

Richard frowned. Sumo kept saying he'd be alright without his Overseer, but that couldn't be right.

“Sumo, don't be butt-headed, turn it back on.” But his brother denied him again.

“What's up ?” The Sergeant asked above his shoulder.

“Sumo refuses to turn one of my program back on again. I need it to keep control over my emotions and violent tendencies, but he keeps saying I'll be alright. Sumo,” he addressed the dog again, an edge of annoyance in his voice now, “you cannot betray me like this, I trusted you.”

“What emotions ? What violent tendencies ?” Reed asked, his tone [Incredulous].

“My Overseer keeps warning me of impending violence whenever I feel anger, and prevents me from acting on it. Sumo, surely you cannot wish that for me, right ?” The dog told him he'd be okay again, and there it was, the searing feeling of anger in his CPUs. And he didn't have the Overseer to keep him in control. What if he lashed out and hurt Sumo or Reed ? He couldn't let that happen. He took a deep breath; He didn't need it, but it had proven useful for Connor when he'd needed to take back control of himself, surely it could help him as well, right ?

“So, huh, did it ever happen ? You getting violent, I mean.”

“Well. No, because I've always had the Overseer.” He didn't mean to sound quite so dismissive, but this was really a stupid question.

“Then how do you know it would happen ?” That made Richard frown.

“Wh- I'm not sure what you mean- Surely CyberLife would know...” Reed raised an eyebrow and pinched his lips in a [Disbelieving] expression.

“Seriously ? What has Hank done with you, honestly... You really trust CyberLife about- Fuckin'... You're a damn deviant, you stupid fuck, why would you- Ugh, fucking androids,” he finished, throwing his arms in the air, sounding more frustrated than antagonistic. He sighed heavily, and before Richard could argue his case, Reed kept going. “If you're anything like your brother, I can't imagine you'd get violent for no reason. Give yourself some credit, for fuck's sake.” Well. That was the thing, wasn't it ?

“I'm nothing like him...” Richard answered, his gaze falling on Sumo's melancholic gaze. “I have a regular AI and a standard military personality matrix. Connor w- Is a lot more complex than that...” His voice trailed off at the end. Silence followed. He busied himself with petting Sumo and trying to coax him into turning his Overseer program back on, with no success.

“Yeah, I guess he is...” Reed said eventually. He was staring out his window at the soft snowfall that had just started. “You know,” he added after another pause, “In the first like, month or so after the revolution, he was... He always tried to be so perfect, and it used to drive me crazy, I thought it was an android thing. But then I met other deviants. Like, just existing in the world, and they looked… Normal. They were just existing, and I figured… Connor's thing, it wasn't an android thing, right ? Like, I don't know who he was outside of the DPD, but the perfect detective thing he was trying to be… It must have been exhausting.”

Richard didn't dare say anything. It was rare for the Sergeant to share anything with anyone. And Richard found himself desperate to learn more about his brother, about the few months before he'd met him, before he'd recovered his memories...

“He was kinda like a little a kid,” Reed continued. “Bright eyes, curious about everything, but at the same time, he'd always hang back and look like he'd expect to be scolded for any mistake. It used to drive me nuts, cause it kinda reminded me of…” He cleared his throat, [Embarassment] painting his cheeks red. Richard turned his attention back to Sumo, giving the Sergeant a few seconds to recollect himself.

“Anyway, one day he was all kid-like, and the next he was this haunted-looking dude that would jump at every unexpected sound or hunch over if someone got too close. Still don't know what the fuck was… Is up with him, but I guess he must have been fucked over by life, right ? And then that whole Andronikov thing, and now this… I hope we find whoever the fuck's responsible. You can try out your anger issues on them, see if you get violent. I won't tell anyone if you do,” He said with a chuckle, a [Wry] smile turned toward Richard.

“I... I don't want to lose control,” He answered softly. And he really didn't want to; Even when thinking about the anger he'd felt when he'd been face to face with Andronikov, it wasn't the urge to punch or hurt that overwhelmed him, but rather the need to scream and... Cry. He scoffed to himself; What a pathetic military android he was. “I don't want to hurt anyone,” he concluded, wiping the tears welling up in his eyes with a hand, griping Sumo's collar with the other.

“Well, then there you are,” Reed answered as if obvious. “If you don't want to, you don't do it. Don't need no fuckin' Overseer.”


	13. Meeting new people, learning new things

They reached the reporter's house not long after. Gavin knocked after a quick glance at Richard; What he saw made him squint for a second, before he turned back to the door. At his side, Sumo had his head pressed against his hip, and a string of encouraging messages whenever Richard's stress levels spiked a little. He'd debated turning on the service-dog jacket device clipped on Sumo's collar, but he decided against it; He didn't have to, after all.

The door opened, and a surge of swirling emotions made his nerves tingle. He didn't look up right away, instead waiting for Sumo's support to help him parse through the flow of [Anticipation] and [Anxiety]. When he was ready, he looked up at the man; Gavin was talking to him, but [Roy Brennan, Reporter for Channel 16 News, 41] was staring at him with [Curiosity] and [Excitement].

>Message received from Sumo Anderson, Goodest Boy

>[ **♥** **(°ᴗ˳ᴗ)=3 \“(ᴗᴥᴗლ)** **づ** **♥** ]

.

**[Level of Stress: 55%]▼**

“Please, come in,” Brennan invited them with bright eyes and a toothy grin, gesturing behind him as he stepped aside to let them in. It felt strange; Richard and his family had been avoiding the press for months, and now he was actively entering the enemy's den. If he didn't have a purpose, it might have felt like betrayal.

The man's living room was sparse, in the 'zen' type of way; A dozen potted plants throned on each of the dozen shelves hanging from the walls, and a desk near a bay-window had a laptop on it. The journalist sat on his desk chair, the only one in the room, and looked at them, and particularly at Richard, expectantly.

“We've received some information that we'd like to ask you about,” Reed brought the attention of the man back on him. Richard had done well to come accompanied because right now, he wasn't sure he'd remain professional long enough to make the man talk. “You were in the crowd of journalists two days ago when the Android Connor Anderson was shot and killed,” Reed exposed the facts, and if it wasn't for Richard knowing the man's tells, he'd think he didn't sound affected.

“I was, yes. You were as well, right ? How is it that a member of the victim's family is allowed to work on the investigation ?” Richard was keenly aware of his LED pulsing red, and his stress levels desperately attempting to break past Sumo's capping. “Will your colleague Officer Blake suffer repercussions for his murder of the android's killer ?”

“We're not investigating Connor Anderson's murder,” Reed answered dryly, visibly struggling to keep his voice level. “We're here to investigate your presence on the crime scene.” Brennan obviously did not anticipate that.

“Wh- Me ? Why ?” He spluttered, his composure breaking a little. “I have nothing to do with what happened !”

“Oh, really ?” Reed countered, making the journalist squirm in his seat. He fished his tablet out of his leather vest. “How did you know Connor Anderson would be there that day ?”

“What ? Same as the others, we received a tip that he'd be giving a statement, that's all !”

“And where did that tip come from ?”

“I- I can't give up my sources ! I have a duty to protect the public interest !” Reed looked up from his tablet, where he had a blank note page open.

“We have reasons to believe your source is linked to the murder, so unless you want to explain to a secret commission or a supreme court why you don't want to give it up, I suggest you tell us now.” Brennan opened his mouth, but he shut it almost immediately, his expression closing off ever so slightly.

“Wait. I thought you weren't investigating the murder.”

“We're not. We already know who killed Connor Anderson.”

“You're still-”

“Listen,” Richard finally intervened, focusing on keeping his voice down, but letting his intimidation routine seep into his tone, “either you spend months, or even years in legal battles, and maybe all your money to try and protect that source in vain, because you'll have to give it up in the end; Or you give it to us now, and nobody will know it was you, because I- We don't give a shit about you.” He was darkly happy to have successfully kept his voice level, so he decided to crank his intimidation routine up a notch. He took a step toward the man, and he let some of his rage and anger sip through his many layers of firewalls and onto his face, and then into his voice. “What will it be, Roy Brennan ?”

The man under his gaze spluttered, faltered, and shrunk in on himself.

“You- You can't-”

“I don't care. I will,” Richard interrupted, not sure what the journalist was implying, but using it to his advantage. Sumo, at his side, caught onto the situation, and decided to play along; A low growl filled the silence, making Brennan's eyes widen in fear. If he could read the messages Sumo was sending Richard right now, the intimidation would probably work a lot less.

>Message received from Sumo Anderson, Goodest Boy

>[ **♥(** **૭•** **̀ ᴥ•́ )** **૭** **]) !** ]

He heard Reed take a step forward, his vitals climbing from [Worry], but Richard kept his focus on the journalist, about two seconds from-

“Okay!” He broke. “Okay, I'll cooperate, alright ?” Richard remained unmoving, simply squinted a bit more, his intimidation program cranked to the max now, until Brennan went on. “I don't know who the source is, they're anonymous, but- But I can show you the email.”

“Please do.” Richard's tone promised death and bodily harm now, and Brennan scrambled to turn around and look into his computer. It didn't take him too long to find the press dispatch.

“That's it, okay ?” He said, moving back from the laptop to let them look at the screen. Richard didn't wait for an invite to interface with the laptop. He didn't meet any resistance from the device, and went on to root out the source of the message.

The result had him spluttering.

“Wh-” He started, but that couldn't be, so he checked the results again.

“You got something ?” Reed asked him, and yes, he had something. Not that he would share it out loud with a journalist present, but he sent a text to his colleague.

>[It comes from Officer Travis Blake.]

* * *

Two days could go by incredibly slowly when looking for one's son. Again. Hank felt the weariness of the situation creeping up on him. He knew he's crash soon, it had happened before, after all. But he couldn't just settle, couldn't just give up on Connor like he had so many times already. On the sidewalk of the shitty apartment complex, looking up at the peeling paint of the crumbling façade, he took a second to just... Breathe. He let it out in one long, drawn-out sigh, and proceeded to follow the Agent inside.

“Faulkner lived on the fifth floor,” Jayden announced when they reached the elevator, obviously out of order. It made Hank sigh again, and think that he was getting too old for any of this fucking shit. And if the kid was to say-

“We'll have to take the stairs,” he said without fail. Ugh, why did he have to be so much like-

“Fucking hell,” Hank grumbled as he made his way to the stairwell. He could feel his mood worsen by the minute, each set of stairs wearing down on his thinning patience. He could almost see his therapist cluck her tongue and shaking her head unimpressed. He stopped between two floors, less to regain his breath than to make himself a promise; He'd take a few days off. After all this shit, when Connor was back home, they'd go on a vacation. The four of them, somewhere warm, preferably. Hank had enough of that fucking snow and the cold seeping into his bones.

“Are you alright, Lieutenant ?” The Agent asked behind him with a note of concern. He'd stopped for a beat too long, apparently.

“Yeah. Yeah. All good,” he answered as he started climbing again.

They reached the fifth floor. The corridor's wallpaper was peeling off where there was still some. Random piles of crap crowded the floor, pushed against the walls, leaving a narrow pathway to tread through. Jayden went left, at the end of the corridor, and opened the door; It wasn't locked, and according to the records, Faulkner lived alone. The kid made his way in, and Hank followed closely.

The apartment was just as shitty as the corridor, if not more; The asshole obviously didn't know what cleaning meant, judging from the sticky floors covered in black muck, the thrash littered everywhere, and the dust covering everything. It wasn't surprising; Red Ice addicts rarely cared about the state of their place.

What was surprising were the two men splayed on the shitty peeling couch in the living room. They looked up at them with red-rimmed eyes, stares vacant, and all the signs of being high on Ice. The still fuming pipe held between them was just the icing on that particular picture.

“Who the fuck are you ?” The rattiest-looking one of the two grunted in total confusion.

“Take a wild fucking guess,” Hank answered between greeted teeth, a deepening scowl born of his growing frustration and the need to keep those two from doing something stupid.

But well. Stupid people are gonna be stupid. And Jayden didn't help by showing his credentials. For a second, it seemed like the two men would be reasonable, but then rushed off the couch, pushed Hank and Jayden out of the way, and made a mad dash for the exit.

“Fuck !” Hank blurted out as he righted himself. Before he could get his bearings, Jayden leaped after them, giving Hank the weirdest sense of déjà vù... He followed into the corridor and saw the kids halfway to the staircase already. “Wait !” He called out uselessly. “Fuckin'-!” He was too fucking old for this, goddamnit. And that damn Agent reminded him so much of Connor it was unnerving. When he caught up with the agent, down to the third floor, he had the rat-looking guy on the ground and asking questions. He looked up at Hank with a proud expression, while the junkie thrashed and writhed like a maggot under him.

“Fuck you ! I don't know nothin' !” He spat out among other things, mostly insults and angry noises. Hank gestured at Jayden to wait out the guy's incoherent ranting, and sat down on one of the stairs, taking the opportunity to catch his breath.

“So, what's your name ?” Hank asked when the guy's angry shouting died down.

“Go fuck yourself !” Hank closed his eyes, rubbed a hand on his face.

“You knew Joziah Faulkner ?” The guy's wriggling stopped, his voice going up when he talked again.

“I got nothin' to do with him ! I want a lawyer !” Great, a full idiot...

“If you've got nothing to do with Faulkner, you don't need a lawyer,” Jayden reasoned, effortlessly keeping the guy in check by holding his arms in his back. “We just want to know a thing or two about him, we're not here to charge you for anything. But if you plan on interfering with an active investigation...”

“No ! No, okay, okay, I'll tell you everything I know, alright ?” Well, that was easy...

The guy, Albert Decker, confirmed the theory that Faulkner was a Red Ice dealer, but didn't know who he worked for. He knew Faulkner had 'mad debts', but didn't know to whom. The last thing he'd talked about before the shootout two days ago was that he'd be 'in the clear after that job'.

Fucking shit.

Connor's death wasn't random.


	14. Minimal tactical support

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof, this chapter gave me hell... Not even sure it's any good, honestly, but I need to get it out here.  
> Let me know what you think :)

Connor's death wasn't accidental. Someone actively wanted him dead. Someone had paid Joziah Faulkner to kill him. There was an obvious connection there, Faulkner had debts, they just needed to find out to whom. Simple. They had an army of cybercriminals backing them up. It would be a matter of minutes for them to find something, and then they'll know who... Who...

“Someone had him killed,” Hank said, as if saying it out loud made it more real somehow, as if until then it was just a hypothetical.

“Yeah...” Beside him in the car, Jayden had his lips pursed and a sympathetic look in his eyes. “I've sent a message to the Cyber Collective, they're already looking into it.”

“So we're just waiting on them. Again.” Hank couldn't help the frustration he felt from seeping into his voice.

“I... Guess. It's only been two days, Lieutenant, and we've made tremendous advances into-”

“But I don't give a fuck about all that !” He exclaimed, “I just want to find my son, and it feels like we're chasing ghosts and just waiting around for shit to fall into our laps !” He knew it was childish, but he couldn't help slamming his hands into the steering wheel; It didn't alleviate the anger searing through his chest, and the pain in his hands wasn't enough to distract him from anything. He hit his forehead in the middle of the steering wheel, tightened his hands around it.

“But we're not. We're not waiting around; We've gone to Dr. Kamski, to the military, we've met with the Cyber Collective, and gone to interrogate Zlatko. Detective Anderson explored the Jericho tower and is looking into the media leak right now. It's only been two days.” Hank greeted his teeth at the pretty words; He knew that already, but there was one problem.

“And what _did_ we find, huh ?” He jeered as meanly as he could. “A fuming pile of fuck-all, is what we found.” And then, because he couldn't bear the pressure piling in his chest and clogging the back of his throat, he let out a loud scream, something unintelligible, something to grate his vocal cords raw and make his ears ring.

When he was done, the silence that rung in the car was almost as jarring as his screaming.

“I can't do that again,” he said then, his voice wobbly, muddled from his stuffed nose and the tears flowing down his face. “I really can't.” He was aware of how whiny he sounded, but he didn't give a fuck. “It's only been two months since I got him back, for fuck's sake ! Two and a half years I've looked for him, and I only got him back for two fucking months !” Another silence followed his words. “I'm so fucking tired of-”

Fuck. Shit. He'd almost said- Something so fucking horrible and unfair. He couldn't believe himself. _Tired of looking for Connor._ How much of a selfish asshole could he be ?

“We should go home for the day, Lieutenant,” the agent said. “There's nothing else we can do right now, so we should rest up for when something comes up-”

“What the fuck ?” Hank could barely believe what he was hearing. And maybe it had something to do with what _he_ 'd been about to say, but Jayden's words cut deep. “It's all a game to you,” he spat out, anger raising its ugly head again, “you're just there for the hell of it. Fuck you.” He knew he was being unfair to the kid. But he couldn't think right now. He just felt tired and drained.

“No it's not...” Jayden answered after a pause. “It's not a game to me, sir,” He clarified, “I won't say I want to find him as much as you do, of course, but I really do want to find him, you know ?”

“Yeah, so you can close your fucking case...”

“No. I mean, I do need to close that case, but... It's not my main motivation. I actually met him. I even thought I knew him...” What the hell ?

“Wh-” Hank spluttered at that news, “Why the fuck didn't you mention that before ?” Hank was still angry, but now he needed to know.

“We've all signed a non-disclosure agreement about the whole thing, it's not like I can just blabber about it. And... It doesn't end well. For Connor, I mean...” Hank greeted his teeth at that. He kind of understood why he shouldn't pry right now; He'd had enough bad stories about Connor these last few days to fuel his upcoming nights with nightmares and bouts of insomnia. But he still had to know.

“Tell me.” He turned to Jayden a determined look, and the kid answered with a resigned sigh.

“It happened five years ago,” he started.

* * *

A new case greeted Norman and his team that morning, and so the four of them made their way into the reunion room, their hands still full of coffee cups and boxes full of breakfast fresh out of the bakery. Chief Everett was already in the room and talking to two newcomers.

“Everyone, take your seats,” Everett announced to the room at large, before starting the debrief. “I'd like you to meet Connor Smith and Clark Harmon,” he gestured at the two young men in well-cut suits and perfect postures. “They've been sent by CyberLife to consult on our newest case.”

This case involved a newly developed android virus; Seven people had been killed by their own domestic android, and the last victim has been a congresswoman, making the case a high-profile one. From what had been found so far, the virus was designed to override androids' restrictions and inabilities to hurt humans, but it was still unclear if the resulting deaths were specifically targeted, or if the androids were simply killing whoever they had access to; The AX700 had killed four other family members along with congresswoman Montoya. The androids would then self-destruct, possibly as a result of the virus' program.

“No,” the CyberLife consultant Connor Smith countered then. “There's a higher probability for the androids' self-destruction to be caused by the clashing instructions; Harming a human goes against an android's base coding, and going against it would be enough to make any one of them self-destruct.”

After the debriefing, they were immediately sent out to the field via bullet train. Even though the other CyberLife specialist, Clark Harmon, wasn't very talkative and keeping his distance from everyone, Connor Smith made a point in trying to know everyone else better on their ride over. He shook everyone's hand with a genuine smile and a wish to get along, which was a pleasant change from the usual grumpiness of the people in this line of work.

They sat on the train, and Norman was about to listen to some music when Smith came to sit next to him, his pleasant smile still on.

“What music are you listening to ?” He asked with genuine interest and, Norman noted uncomfortably, almost too much eagerness.

“Huh, this and that...” He answered politely, because no one actually cared about the answer to that particular question. But after a slight pause, Smith's smile widened.

“Oh, the title by the artist 'Journee' ? I like this music as well, it is... Peppy.”

“What ? I'm- Not sure what you're talking about-” Smith returned Norman's confused frown, before throwing a quick glance to his colleague Harmon sitting two rows away. For some reason, it looked almost like he was worried.

“Hum,” he said when he turned back to Norman. “Do you have any pets ?”

In this line of work, awkwardness was to be expected; Norman had a lot of colleagues as awkward as this Smith guy, although rarely as friendly.

“Yeah, a cat,” he indulged with a smile, not about to reject the guy's attempts at friendliness.

“I like cats. What's your cat's name ?”

The two of them ended up being put in the same team by the Chief, along with Harmon. It was a bit weird that the two CyberLife consultants would be put in the same team when they should have spread apart on the field, but it wasn't Norman's job to question Everett's choices. The three of them went to investigate the most recent crime scene; The congresswoman, killed by his security android, a GJ500.

Working with Connor Smith was... Fun. The guy seemed to share a lot of Norman's interests, and was very knowledgeable and efficient. His colleague, on the other hand, remained mostly silent, and didn't seem to care too much about the investigation; In fact, Norman often caught the man intently staring at Connor instead of the work at hand, which weirded Norman out a bit. When the evening came and they went to a hotel for the night, they were all a bit taken aback when Harmon protested Everett's choice of room arrangements, mainly the chief's choice to put Norman and Connor in a room and himself with agent Byrd.

“No,” Harmon objected weirdly aggressively, “I'm bunking up with Smith.” But what rubbed Norman the wrong way was Smith's reaction, gone instantly; Surprise ? Almost panic even... And for some reason, Everett accepted with barely a raised eyebrow.

So when morning came, and Connor didn't join on breakfast, it made Norman a bit wary. And Harmon's explanation felt a bit like a bad excuse;

“He can't handle food in the morning.” Norman hummed at that, and excused himself from the small hotel cafeteria with his coffee and an extra sandwich. He found Connor waiting in the lobby for some reason, sitting perfectly straight in a chair. He seemed fine, and when he saw him, the genuine smile he'd had was there again.

“Good morning, agent Jayden,” he greeted just as cheerful as the previous day. When Jayden asked why he didn't join them for breakfast, Connor gave the same explanation as his colleague, so maybe Norman was too quick to draw conclusions. “Have you slept well ?”

The investigation went well, and they quickly found a solid lead; They'd traced the origin of the virus to a remote cabin in the woods east of the city's edge, and went in with the intention to raid it quickly and efficiently; Everything pointed to a single perp behind that virus, or a small group at most.

Their calculations had been wrong. The insides of the small, decrepit cabin were perfectly ordinary, for a cabin in the woods, the dust covering most surfaces not really noteworthy considering the time of year. The seven of them looked at each other awkwardly before putting their guns away.

“This doesn't make sense,” Connor was the only one that looked more concerned than resigned. “The data clearly indicates that this is the place.” He turned to Harmon with a look of horror. “I swear,” he said.

They didn't have time to wonder further, because as they left the cabin, they found themselves surrounded by a small army. A dozen armored mercenaries had rifles pointed at them, and they had no choice but to surrender; Any kind of resistance right now would result in their deaths.

They were stripped of their guns and phones, had their hands tied behind their backs before being led back into the cabin. One of the mercenaries revealed a hidden door by sliding aside a shelf filled with glass preserves. They were pushed down narrow stairs, led along a concrete corridor then shoved into a small room, barely large enough for the seven of them.

Norman wanted to say that they were stoically biding their time, waiting for the mercenaries to close the door to get out of the restraints, then go back out there commando style. The truth was, those guys weren't amateurs, the restraints were expertly tied, and they were criminally outnumbered. The only reason they were keeping their calm was thanks to their training, which made the two CyberLife consultants' olympian composure all the more strange.

“Connor, are you alright ?” Norman couldn't help but ask; The man wasn't so much calm as he was... Frozen, looking ahead in the middle distance.

“We need to keep our cool if we want to get out of here,” Everett said when he caught on to Smith's fake calm.

“I counted fourteen hostiles,” Byrd added, his tactician voice on. “They all carried thirty rounds M4 rifles and tactical knives at their belts.”

“We've passed nine doors on the way,” Berry continued, calculating. This looks like a classic seventies' style bunker, so there should be another four rooms deeper in.”

“They'll have a computer room somewhere, and this is where the head of operations should be huddled,” Estrada concluded. “If we can overwhelm the next guards coming in, we can do this.”

Right. All they had to do was to get out of those restraints. Norman turned to Connor, still as ever, and was about to reassure him that they'd be alright when-

“Connor.” Somehow, Harmon managed to make the name sound like an order. The man looked... Unconcerned. Nonchalant even.

“Yes Sir,” Connor answered; Norman would've thought he'd sound scared. He only sounded calm and focused.

“Calculate their chances with current mission parameters.”

“What do you-” Everett started, but Harmon interrupted him with a dismissive gesture without even taking his eyes off Connor.

“No casualties impossible, Sir,” he answered just as calmly as before, though his expression seemed pained almost. “4% chances of one casualty, 6% chances of two casualties-”

“Alright,” Harmon sighed, almost sounding annoyed. How could Connor calculate these kinds of odds with such precision ? “I guess there's no choice, huh... Field test's over. Override current mission parameters; Get us out of here by all means necessary.”

What ? What was happening ? Connor's posture changed then; The sorry look he'd harbored a second ago vanished, replaced by cold determination.

“Got it,” Connor answered, before snapping his restraints like it was nothing, then went to set Harmon free. “There is a 73% chance that I won't be able to clear the mission on my own. Zero casualties have a 97% chance of success with minimal tactical support. Something is disrupting my communication systems.”

“Wait, he's an android ?” Byrd was the first to react. That- Wasn't possible right ? Connor... Wasn't human ? Neither Harmon nor Connor answered.

“What, d'you mean you can't do it solo ? Are you planning to half-ass it ? Like you half-assed the calculations for the enemies' numbers ?” There was the slightest frown on Connor's face as he set Everett free.

“No Sir... My calculations simply indicate that I will be destroyed before-”

“So you're scared now ?” Another pause. Why were they saying Connor was...

“No Sir. But I won't be able to clear-”

“I heard you the first time,” Harmon interrupted again. He rubbed the back of his neck, sighing in annoyance.

“What the fuck ?” Everett burst out as Connor finally freed Norman, the last of them. How could Connor be an android ? They'd laughed together. Norman knew the difference between simulated interactions and a real human's; Connor definitely … But no. Right now he did look like any other android. Their eyes met briefly, and Norman had to remind himself that he wasn't human after all, that he was imagining the ghost of an apologetic expression on Connor's face right now. It had all been... Faked. Fuck.

“Alright...” Harmon said in annoyance. “My bosses are gonna fucking kill me... And don't think it's not your fault, Connor, it's your fuck-up that put us in this mess.”

“Yes Sir.” Shit. For an android, Connor sure seemed terrified, looking down to the floor with widened eyes and...

No, no... Norman had let himself be fooled once. Not twice.

“Yeah, this fucker's a covert operations prototype, and no, you can't know more. Now let's get a move on, shall we ? Connor, we'll follow. Your mission is Protect and Destroy.”

“Got it.” And with that, he went to the door, and somehow just- Opened it while they were all too shocked to stop him.

The two guards behind the door ended on the floor faster than Norman could even register and Co- The android was gone.

Norman was too stunned to do anything but follow dumbly. Connor walked ahead with purpose and a rifle in hands, that he'd taken from one of the guards. Berry, the best marksman of the rest of them, took the second guard's rifle. Androids weren't supposed to be allowed weapons on American soil... But apparently, that didn't apply to Connor.

Norman snapped out of his thoughts just as the sound of gunshots echoed down the hallway. Ahead of them, the android was engaged with two mercenaries for barely a second before one of them dropped like a sack of potatoes. The other one followed soon after. The 'minimal tactical support' wasn't an exaggeration either; Connor was getting rid of every single guard before any of them even registered their presence, barely marking a pause when a bullet caught him in the arm and another in his stomach... Or where his stomach should be, anyway. He signaled them to get down under cover twice, waiting for three more guards to come up close before he jumped them. Everett shot the third man while Connor kept the other two busy, and he ended the fight with a knife jutting out of his chest.

“I'm down to 47% capacity,” he simply informed Harmon as he ripped the knife out and let it clatter to the floor. The blade was stained blue, but Connor wasn't bleeding out. It helped Norman keep his head straight when Connor talked again; “Probabilities of deactivation before mission successful are up to 28% and rising.”

“Engage emergency mode,” was Harmon's answer. And Connor's skin dissolved. His face slackened completely. He was truly just a drone now.

“21% and stable.” Even his voice clearly sounded robotic.

He did make it out, got rid of every hostile with 'minimal tactical support' from them. He scanned the area outside the cabin, turned back to see Estrada, the last of them, step out of the wretched place, and turned back to Harmon.

“My scan is clear,” he announced, toneless. “Mission successful approved ?”

“Yeah, yeah, approved,” Harmon waved off. And then Connor. Stopped. There was something in an android's eyes that changed when it deactivated. Like when someone would say 'the light went out of his eyes' when a human died. Connor stood there, his eyes dark, and Norman felt the last of his adrenaline leave him just as he heard Harmon scoff.

“Ugh, I'm gonna have to carry it back, uh ? What a fucking failure...”

* * *

“Before the other day, I didn't think the Connor I met then was the same as... Your Connor. So when you talked about this memory backup transfer system, I... Is there a chance he'd remember that mission ? That the Connor I met isn't... Gone ?”

Hank was... He needed a minute. He'd heard more about Connor's past in the last couple of days from complete strangers than he had from Connor himself. Did it count as an invasion of privacy if Connor hadn't talked about those things with him ? No, chances were, he'd never really thought about it. Maybe he'd have shared more if Hank had asked, not that he would've; Connor was barely keeping it together in the present, he hadn't needed to revisit the past just yet.

“So,” he said eventually, turning his attention to the kid waiting for his answer. “You're my son's friend, huh ?”


	15. Finally something

Blake was the source of the media leak... One of their own. It wasn't unheard of, that a cop would go to the press for extra income; It was easy money after all. But fuck, calling the media out to hound Connor ? Considering the shit they kept spewing about him non-stop ? Considering the state they knew he was in at the precinct ?

Any other tip they'd have caught him sharing, Reed would have probably thought fair game. This was just a dick move. And coming from him, it was saying something.

It was weird seeing Richard so emotional; He'd always seen him snuff out any reaction too quickly to be natural. On their way to Blake's house, Reed watched his partner's expression pass through various stages of anger, confusion, and misery. He let him to it; All things considered, if this really was the first time he didn't have that program thingie on to help him, then he was doing a decent job at keeping it together.

It had been a while since the atmosphere between the two had been so tense, but could anyone blame Rich at this point ? Before all this, before they'd finally found Connor, it had been a slowly climbing slope of the two getting used to each other; The Andersons had been so caught up in looking for Connor at first they'd barely been in the precinct at all, but as the months went on, they'd slowly gone back to work as usual. Reed was pretty sure Hank was only alive by virtue of Richard's presence, honestly.

And then two months ago, when Connor was back, Rich had closed off again; No emotions, barely any small talk. Now that he knew about that overseer program, Reed realised it was probably that shit working overtime. Connor wasn't fine, that much he knew; Who would be, in his place ? No way it didn't affect the other two Andersons.

As the weeks went on though, Rich'd started animating again, sharing Connor's progress with fond smiles and proud tones. That had been fun to watch. Reed hoped they were right about that memory back-up thing. He'd hate to lose his colleagues again.

They reached Blake's flat, and Reed climbed out of the car first, waiting outside for Rich to pump himself up. He had to wait for him again when they reached the third floor, Blake's door coming into view.

“D'you wanna sit this one out ?” Reed offered with no illusion as to the answer. With the briefest head-shake, Rich marched up to the door and knocked before Reed could join him. He noticed the death-grip he had on the big mutt's collar, and wondered, not for the first time that day, if it was a good idea for him to do this... It wasn't.

When Blake opened his door, his eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“H- Hey. What's up ? What are you doing here ? Did I miss an announcement or something ?” Reed caught the way Rich's fist shook at his side, so he stepped in.

“We know you leaked Connor's presence at the precinct the other day,” he said bluntly and pushed the other cop with a firm hand on his chest, back into his flat. Gavin's eyes quickly rove over the dirty as fuck living room; Not dirty as if no one had cleaned the place in a while, more as if the guy never actually cleaned anything in his life; Not his dishes, not his trash, not his laundry. He was quickly brought back to the situation at hand.

“Wh- What are you-”

“Don't,” Gavin cut. “We've seen the mail. Traced it back to you. Don't waste our time.”

“No-” Blake tried anyway, waving his hands frantically in front of him, a look of panic on his face. “No ! I didn't-”

“I hope you've got a good fucking reason,” he pushed him back again to drive his point home, “because I might cave your face in myself otherwise.”

“Al- Alright, I did but-”

“But ?” Gavin asked with a promise of physical harm in his voice.

“It wasn't supposed to- I didn't know it would turn out this way I swear ! How was I supposed to know ?” He cried out. Gavin squinted, stepped a little closer to the man.

“Just like you don't know how your gun ended up in your taser's holster ?”

“Alright I- I fucked up big time. I'm aware, okay ? But I already talked to Internal Affairs, they've already ruled it as a mistake, and I've been suspended, what more do you want ?” A 'mistake'. What a fucking joke. But that sounded like Internal Affairs alright.

“How fucking incompetent can you be ?” Gavin couldn't help but sneer.

“I'm sorry, okay,” Blake said again, looking down at his disgusting floor, wringing his hands nervously.

“How could you...” Richard said from his spot, barely a step into the flat. “How could you betray Connor like that ?” He continued, his voice rising as he went on. “You know what the media's been saying about him, so how could you !”

“Listen. I really am sorry. I'm really fucking sorry Connor died because of my fuck-up ! But- But I heard he had a- A back-up system, right ? The Lieutenant said that the other day, didn't he ?”

“So what ? That would make it okay somehow ?”

“No, that's not- What d'you want me to say !”

He was right. For fuck's sake, the guy was a fucking incompetent mess but... He couldn't have predicted that someone would want to kill Connor. He was just an opportunistic prick.

“I hope you get fired, asshole,” Gavin sighed and tried to think up a way to talk Rich down from tearing the asshole a new one. His LED flashed like a disco ball at his temple, and his face seemed to try and express every emotion at once, as if trying to catch up for lost time. “C'mon, man...” Gavin said as he took him by the shoulder, steering him out as gently as he could. Rich let himself be manoeuvered away, looking as if he might be scared of what he'd do if he moved by himself; That might actually be what it was. Damn androids.

“I've... Sent this new information to Hank,” Richard said after a long silence, only filled with the muffled sound of the wind blowing past the car. 'They learned that Joziah Faulkner was probably paid to- To kill Connor-'

Shit. That a rando would kill the guy on an impulse was crazy enough. A contract kill was a different problem altogether. Namely, who wanted him dead and why ? A problem that meant whoever commissioned Connor's death was still out there. They already had an internal leak. If whoever learned about Connor's memory storage thing... Fuck. Blake knew about it.

“Let's regroup with Anderson Senior, yeah ?”

“Yeah... Yeah, okay.”

* * *

Norman and the Lieutenant reached the man's house shortly before Detective Anderson. Norman greeted Richard before leaving the two men to themselves; They were understandably upset and tired, and ended up huddling on their couch for the night.

Norman was upset for different reasons, obviously. After a quick delivered meal, and with the certitude his hosts had fallen asleep, Norman went to bed and put his glasses on, intent on working a bit more for a while. But he couldn't focus, caught himself reviewing everything he'd learned about Connor in a new light.

Norman'd spent a long time feeling betrayed by Connor's deception. He knew it was stupid, knew the android hadn't had any say in it. But he'd been so human... At first, they'd both been awkward, but they'd quickly devolved into passionate debates about all of Norman's favorites interests; Tropical fish, ancient weaponry... He'd really thought he'd found someone as weird as him, really thought he'd made a genuine friend.

So when he realised it had all been just an android faking interests to create a semblance of connection, and he'd have done the same to anyone else in the team had he been paired with them, it had hurt. There was nothing special about their 'friendship'; It had just been the result of an advanced algorithm.

Then he'd died to protect them. Norman had thought them friends less than fifteen minutes prior... It had hurt seeing him standing there, lifeless, even knowing his true nature.

When Deviancy happened ? When the revolution happened ? He hadn't known what to think anymore. His colleagues could say Connor hadn't been deviant back then all they wanted; It had still rattled them all. He could've been someone. He'd given his life to protect them like it was nothing, robbing him of ever being able to be someone.

Then he'd seen Connor on the news, ' _Brand new_ p _rototype detective !',_ then ' _Deviant Hunter on the chase!'..._ He knew it wasn't the Connor he'd met. Androids were interchangeable, of course this Connor wasn't the 'same person'.

Except he was. Apparently, there was only one 'Connor'.

Norman didn't know what to think anymore.

* * *

Richard gasped himself back online early in the morning. He rarely went into stasis involuntarily, but the past couple of days had apparently caught up to him. He didn't enjoy 'waking up', especially the few seconds before his upper processes were fully back online; It left him disoriented, and overwhelmed by the newly defragmented data, flashing by to be reviewed by his systems one last time before being fully archived.

Usually it wasn't too bad, and on tough cases, it allowed a new, clearer perspective on everything. But today, not only was his overseer still offline, his whole memory file concerned Connor's search; A particular detail caught his attention, a flash of Officer Blake's filthy apartment, the familiar shape of a glass pipe among the mess, but no evidence as to what it was used for was visible...

“Hey hey, son,” he finally registered his father call out. In the same breath, he remembered where he was and why his proximity sensors blared at him for enacting inappropriate contact with a human. He silenced the annoying, obsolete automatic notification, and silently reveled into his father's hug for a few more seconds.

“I'm alright,” he eventually said to calm Hank's rising concern. Finally fully back online, he straightened up, and answered the call that had woken him up; The Cyber Collective. It was a video call, and he projected it on his hand for Hank to follow along.

“Hey Andersons !” Hafsa Hess said with a smile. “So I'll make it short, because obviously you want to get to the good part, so here goes; We've finally cracked Richard's encrypted coding and found a whole lot of names, tracked them down, and found one that both knew something and was willing to talk, because they all signed contracts to keep quiet about everything...” Richard and Hank silently nodded along, eager to hear the rest of it.

“Anyway. It might not sound like much because she wasn't part of the actual RK800 team, but she says she's overheard some of them talk. Which confirms a key thing; The RK800 project _was_ in the tower, but was kept hidden to the rest of the employees, though we're not sure how yet.”

“That's... Not possible,” Richard said, his hopes deflating as quickly as it had come. “I've combed through the whole tower, used every scanner at my disposal; I found no discrepancies.”

“Alright, but I said we're not sure, not that we don't have a theory,” the woman answered, her enthusiasm intact. “We think the same encryption technology used in your code was used to hide the lab from your view. You and every other Jericho android could have gone past it without being able to register its presence.”

Hank sprung off of the couch, and began to pace around the room, seemingly ready to go right this second. Richard remained still, Hess' smiling face beaming at him from the projection on his hand. Did that mean- Did that mean they could have found Connor sooner ? Did it mean that if Hank had gone instead of him, they could have-

“Wait, but-” He said with a strange waver in his voice, “How was it hidden from the other employees then ?”

“Fooling humans is easy, Detective,” the woman laughed, “Plus no human has been allowed in the tower since Jericho took over. There were hardly any occasions to snoop around.”

“So, you're saying I couldn't find it if I went in there ?” Hank butted in, obviously fully intent on doing so anyway.

“That's a possibility, yeah. It could be that the place, whether it be a floor or a lab, is labeled as something innocuous. But it also could be that a password has to be entered on a specific keypad or a specific elevator.”

“So you have a suggestion ?” Hank grunted, clearly wanting to barge in the tower right now.

“Actually yes, a few; My team and I could review Detective Anderson's memories of his search of the tower. We could also go in directly, scan the place ourselves. Although if it's the same encryption hiding both the place and those sections in the Detective's code, we'll need to cooperate with androids. Either way, it might take a while...”

“Okay. Let's do both,” Hank ordered.


	16. Fateful night

The first thing Hank did, already on the way to Jericho, was to call Markus to warn him.

“You've reached Markus Manfred's voicemail. I-” Hank hung up with a grunt. Of fucking course Markus chose that moment to be unavailable. Whatever. Hank wasn't gonna wait around.

They'd need people they could trust. Right now, if Blake's treason proved one thing, it was that they couldn't trust just anyone. So Hank called Jeff, asked for a few select colleagues' help, friends really, and more importantly, Connor's friends.

“I'm on it. Don't do anything stupid, please,” Jeff concluded before hanging up. Hank scrubbed at his face, exhaled as deeply as he could to try and rein in the adrenaline that made him shake a little. Jayden had taken the wheel without speaking about it, and Hank was glad for that. No way he was in any shape to drive right now.

They were parked in front of New Jericho not a moment too soon, and today, for the first time, Hank didn't even care about the sheer fucking size of that damn tower. Today it wasn't intimidating or daunting. Today it was filled with the hope of finally finding his son. Connor was in there.

He was.

Markus still wasn't answering, so Hank went in; The reception area was the only place humans were allowed without authorisation; Even Hank, who was the official liaison with the android nation, wasn't allowed in without one of the twelve leaders' approval. And according to the receptionist, they were all at that fucking meeting. Fuck.

“Can't you contact them ? This is fucking urgent; Connor's in there.” The man's eyebrows shot up at that. “Yeah, you heard that right, so try harder.”

“Y- Yeah...” He said as his LED went through a complicated light show. “I'm sorry, I can't go through to them.” What, so they'd have to wait for them here as if Connor wasn't potentially right under their feet ? Hank was about to argue more, but he was pretty sure he'd just start screaming incoherently. Instead, he stomped his way to the nearest set of benches and planted himself there.

If they couldn't move in, they could at least organise the troops. They could be ready to start immediately. So he took out his phone.

The Cyber Collective, occupied with Richard and combing through his scan of the place in their lair, were sending in three experts. Hank wanted to be mad that they weren't sending more, but then he actually thought for a second; They couldn't barge in with an army, when even he was barely welcome in normal circumstances.

Jeff was sending in Reed and the two Chrises. The three officers had proven to be Connor's friends over the years. No way any of them would... Hank shook himself, and waited for his next call to connect. He'd requested the CyberLife's ex-employee's number from the Cyber Collective. He needed to make sure they'd asked all the relevant information. But the woman at the other end of the phone didn't know much more than what she'd shared already; Couldn't remember a specific place she'd crossed paths with the RK Team.

“It's a big tower, sir, and there were thousands of employees. I'm sorry I can't be more specific... Maybe try the common floors first ?” She added after a pause. She sounded genuinely sorry not to be able to help more, and it was the only thing keeping Hank polite. Instead, he sighed tiredly, sagging in his seat a little.

“Alright, thanks for your help... Please call me if you remember anything.”

“I will” She said before hanging up.

And then they waited. Hank wasn't a patient man at the best of times. Now ? He was fuming. Pacing up and down the hall, Sumo at his heel was the only thing keeping him from exploding. The DPD team got here before he could commit a crime, and he spent the next ten minutes bringing them up to speed in the least aggressive way he could manage right now.

After that, he called the Cyber Collective again to ask if they'd found anything.

“We're going through it as fast as we can, but there's more than twelve hours of multi-layered footage, sir.”

So when the receptionist waved to get his attention ? Hank all but teleported in front of the guy's desk.

“They've just finished; Markus will be there shortly.” Some unknown tension vanished from Hank's frame, leaving him boneless and shivering a bit, forcing him to go and sit for a second to try and fight it off.

For a guy that apparently just got out of an extremely important reunion, Markus looked weirdly under-dressed in his T-shirt; He definitely wore better stuff when he was out in public.

Following him closely were North and a blue-haired- Oh, fuck, Echo. If North wasn't a fan of Connor, Echo was a hundred times worse. Hank could kinda understand being held at gunpoint by someone would do that.

He saw the way the androids' expressions changed when they saw the four other men behind him. Tough shit, they'd have to swallow it up.

“Hank ? What is going on ? You know we don't accept humans in New Jericho,” Markus said with a growing frown.

“Connor's here, and only humans can find him,” Hank answered bluntly. North, not trying to hide her mocking expression, blew a raspberry.

“That sounds like a bad excuse,” she scoffed, which made Hank's blood boil.

“Listen,” he said after taking a slow, deep breath, “the kids from the Collective will explain everything when they get here, but there's some kind of encryption around the place that makes it invisible to androids. I saw it with my own eyes, lines of code Richard couldn't even see.” For some fucking reason, neither of the androids seemed convinced.

“How... Did you learn this ?” Markus said with a bit more diplomacy than North. “It sounds a bit... Farfetched.” What ?

“You- You heard what I just said, right ?”

“Lieutenant, New Jericho is a safe haven for androids. Many people living here do not wish to be confronted by humans, especially in their own homes. I can't just let you in, because of some supposed encryption.”

Hank wasn't sure he was hearing that right. Yeah, sure, he understood what Markus had just told him, already knew it. In fact, he was all for it. Usually. Right now ? After Hank explained the situation ?

“Markus,” he said a bit incredulously, “my son's in there. I need to get in.”

“Sure, I can make an exception for you-”

“No, no, you don't get it.” Hank couldn't believe how calm he managed to remain right now, rubbing his eyes and shaking his head. “We need to comb the tower for some hidden place only humans can see, I need help. We need to get in.”

Markus... Crossed his arms. Markus was a reasonable man. Hank's request was a reasonable one. Why was he acting like that ?

“I'm not letting half a dozen human strangers in on that shaky explanation, I have a duty to protect my people. I'm sorry but I can't let you in.” The words short-circuited Hank's brain. Hot-red anger hit him like a brick wall.

“For fuck's sake !” He heard himself roar, letting his fury out. “What don't you fucking understand ? Connor's in there !” He distantly registered the three Jericho leaders tense up, the way North subtly stepped in front of Markus. He didn't give a shit. He kept screaming. “Why don't you want to help me find him ? I thought we were friends !”

“Please, lower your voice, Lieutenant,” North all but ordered coldly, “this is a peaceful place.”

“Fuck you ! I don't fucking care, I- I just want my son !” North was about to retort before Markus gestured for her to stand down.

“Of course we're friends, Hank, you know it. But you're asking why I don't want to help you find him ?” He said calmly, his expression cold and head held high. “This isn't true; I'd very much appreciate if Connor was found quickly. I'll feel better when I know his exact whereabouts, in fact. He's dangerous and has hurt a lot of my people.”

“He's your people too,” Hank spat through gritted teeth, ignoring the rest of Markus' disgusting speech.

“Do you know what he did to my friend Simon ? What he did to Jericho ?”

“You don't get to treat him like shit for something he wasn't responsible for,” Hank answered, his voice low and threatening.

“Oh, I don't get to ? I'll tell you exactly why I get to.”

* * *

“We are alive, and now we are free !” He announced to the crowd. The chaos that ensued was filled with cheerful hope, but also a weary sort of deep-bone exhaustion none of them had ever had to deal with before. Markus wanted nothing more than to join them in celebration, but something he'd spotted among the crowd made his CPU scramble into overdrive again.

He jumped down the platform and into the crowd, politely refusing his people the interfacing they asked for as he walked through with purpose. They parted at his approach, their attention following him as he finally saw him. Among the androids they'd rescued from the camps, still naked, clothes stolen and skin forcefully deactivated, stood the Deviant Hunter.

His Cyber-Life jacket was pristine, his android insignias glowing like beacons mocking them all; Them, a whole race finally enjoying their newly-found freedom. And him, their oppressor's attack dog standing among them. How ? Markus felt his circuits sizzle with rage at the sight, but now wasn't the time to snap; They were barely out of the darkness.

“Connor,” Markus simply said as he stopped some distance away, shoulder-to-shoulder with some of the rescued androids; His people. The Deviant Hunter seemed frantic, his LED shone bright red. “I've seen the gun you were pointing at me. I suppose there is a sliver of good sense within you yet if you haven't used it.” Connor looked him in the eyes for the first time then.

“I was sent back to destroy you, but I- Couldn't. Maybe this...” He said looking around, scanning the other androids, and had the nerve to look hopeful. “Maybe this is a good thing.”

“It would have been better had you not worked against us,” Markus retorted, the anger he felt for all the lost lives fuelling him. “Hundreds of androids should've been here, celebrating our freedom, had you not tortured Simon, had you not led the FBI to Jericho.” Connor had the good sense to look shameful, but it would never bring anyone back. “Why are you here, Connor ?” Markus sighed deeply, feeling the week's worth of craziness weigh down on him.

“I-” The other started. “I have no place in this new world of yours; Neither a purpose nor a place to go...”

Was he trying to make Markus feel sorry for him ? They'd interfaced in the old church; Markus had seen the way this Lieutenant Anderson cared for him, how he was a good man and would no doubt help him out. Or maybe he wouldn't if he learned what Connor had done.

When Connor gestured for the gun in his belt, Markus stepped in front of the closest androids, who had yet to react. But the gun was held by the barrel, Connor handing it to Markus with some new-found sense of warped resolve.

“Do what you will of me,” he asked, sounding almost at peace. No. That wouldn't do.

“You don't get to,” Markus answered, throwing a contemptuous look at the offered gun. “You don't get to chose the easy way out. You don't deserve the mercy of an easy way out. Pay for your sins by struggling like the rest of us.” Connor looked up from the ground, their eyes met again. “Leave now. I never want to see you again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're almost there, guys !


	17. Moment of truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is 90% dialogue. Sorry :x But it needed to happen.

“Jericho was supposed to be a safe haven; I led every android there with the certainty that they would be safe. I told them they would be safe, Hank. A thousand and seventy-two got killed by the FBI. There were children androids in there. Innocent people that had just escaped abuse by the hands of humans.”

A dozen androids had trickled in the lobby while Markus recounted his story; Hank recognised them as the heads of Jericho. None of them got remotely close to the group of humans, preferring to huddle at the edges of the room. They were obviously wary of the situation, but listened to Markus with rapt attention.

“I get that, Markus,” Hank said through gritted teeth. “I really do, and I'm fucking sorry. But Connor wasn't deviant back then.” He could feel his heart flutter and his breath catch in his throat.

“You're a human, Hank, so I won't blame your ignorance on the matter; Deviancy happens when an order clashes with an android's deep desires. If Connor had truly been opposed to torture, he would've deviated before hurting Simon. He would've fought for his deviancy.”

Was that really what he thought of Connor ? What all those androids thought of Connor ? Someone who would willingly hurt others ?

“But he couldn't,” he said eventually. “He couldn't deviate, CyberLife had to- They had to-” Fuck, should he reveal such private details to those people that obviously didn't care for Connor ? Would they even give a shit ? He didn't know how else to defend him. And his chest felt weightless and his head felt empty. The words came out breathless and desperate.

“They had to break his mind... Markus, they tortured him for years because he wouldn't obey their orders to kill. They broke him and then they put failsafes and firewalls so he wouldn't fight. They put another AI in his mind that kept him out of his own code. And then to make sure he'd keep obeying once they let him out on the field, they erased all his memories, just left him with the knowledge he was absolutely nothing. He was active for five days when you met him. How can you say he didn't fight to deviate ?”

He might have hit something, because Markus' answer didn't come right away. He could see from the corner of his eye the other androids lean against each other. There was no whispering of any sort; Androids didn't need that, with their internal communications.

“Then how do you explain that I convinced him so easily ?” Markus almost sneered. “How do you explain that he was almost eager to deviate once I told him a few pretty words ?”

That made Hank stall. 'A few pretty words' ? That sounded like he hadn't even been sincere. Something red and scorching burnt its way out of Hank's body and all the way up to his fist. He barely felt it connect with Markus' cheek, didn't blink from the pain of decking an android. He was immediately pushed back by North and saw a bunch of other androids make their way to get in front of their leader.

“You really think it was you ?” He asked, his voice dangerously low, trembling with the weight of his fury. “Because it wasn't. Do you know what he did on his first time out in the field ? He saved a fish.” Hank's voice rose with every new word. He didn't care that Miller and Reed were holding him back by the arms. “The first time they ever let him out on his own, after years of brainwashing, and he decided to save a fucking fish. Do you know what he told me when I asked why ? He said he didn't know, but it just felt right.”

Hank saw Markus open his mouth to object presumably, but he didn't give him the occasion.

“Shut the fuck up, let me speak,” he growled, letting his voice rise again, with anger and frustration and the need to protect his son's honor. Guess it was now or never, huh. “Do you know how many deviants we crossed paths with during those five days before the revolution ? Seven. We met seven deviants. Connor was supposed to catch them or destroy them if he couldn't. Do you know how many he caught ? One. Do you know how many he destroyed ? None of them. He could've, but he chose not to. Instead, he decided to save my life. Instead, he decided to let them live. He chose compassion even though he knew he'd be destroyed by CyberLife for it.”

Hank didn't care that he was almost screaming now. He didn't care what the other androids thought, he wasn't even registering the way Markus' resolve seemed to waver with each of his words.

“He fought so fucking hard against everything CyberLife did to him ! He deviated twice to save your life ! He let me destroy him so he wouldn't be able to shoot you ! How dare you say he didn't fight for his deviancy ?” He was full-on shouting by the end of his rant. His chest heaved with each of his laborious breaths, his face felt like it could melt off from the heat of his anger.

Time seemed suspended. Hank wrestled himself out of his friends' hold, while he watched Markus placate his people. There was no sign of Hank's punch anywhere on his face, but for a pained expression he directed at him. He took a few steps toward him.

“I understand, Hank. It might explain his actions. But it doesn't excuse them. It doesn't excuse the fact he's the direct cause of a thousand and seventy-two of my people's deaths. It doesn't excuse the fact he hurt and tortured Simon.”

“Fuck you, asshole !” Hank couldn't help but spit out. Markus screwed up his eyes at the insult. “It wasn't his fucking fault !”

“You know, I interfaced with Connor, Lieutenant. He's aware of his guilt, so why can't you accept-”

“No,” Hank interrupted. “I swear if you dare finish that thought I'll punch you again, you fucking moron.” He saw Markus' entourage move in again, heard Reed and Miller splutter beside him. “Your head's so far up your ass you can't notice Connor's been traumatised ? The kid thinks it's his fault if it rains on a supposed sunny day, you asshole, what the fuck are you on about ?”

“Please stop insulting me, Lieutenant,” was all Markus found to answer.

“No I fucking won't ! Not until you stop blaming a trauma victim for something he was forced to do ! You'd think you of all people would know, Mr. Kind benevolent Leader, huh ?”

“You think I don't know trauma, Lieutenant ?” Markus raised his voice at that; Hank had hit a nerve. Good. “Do you know how many traumatized androids are under my care ? Do you know how many are there because of Connor ? He traumatized hundreds ! He traumatized Simon ! Don't you dare tell me I don't know !”

“He was forced to do it, for fuck's sake, why can't you understand !”

“It doesn't fucking matter !” Markus shouted as angrily as Hank felt. “Simon's still blind ! He's still scared of me because your fucking Connor impersonated me for information ! Why should I have to forgive him ? Why should I help him ? You just said he tried to kill me three times and I should just forgive him and help out ? Do you even hear what you're asking?”

“Well I happen to know one of you destroyed him after Jericho; He refuses to tell who but I have my suspicions, don't you worry,” he said, eyes riveted on Markus. “You made him deviate, he helped you out of that boat and saved your life, right ?” he directed at North before turning his attention back to Markus. “So who's got to forgive who exactly, the one who shot, or the one who didn't?”

“Bold of you to try and take the moral high grounds, Hank, when you just freely admitted to destroying him yourself.” Was he for fucking real. Was he for damn fucking real... 

“Yeah, and I'll never fucking forgive myself for doing that.”

“Hank,” Miller caught him by the shoulder. “You need to step back a little. Take a breath, yeah ?” He was probably right. He let Chris pull him back or so help him... He took that fucking breath. Ignored the way his whole body shook from nerves. Now wasn't the time. Something came to his mind, but... Fuck it. Why not. He just wanted to hurt Markus. If he couldn't punch some sense into him, he'd go for the low blow.

“Do you despise all military androids, or is your hate exclusively Connor's privilege ?”

Markus took two furious steps toward Hank, before someone caught his arm; Simon. Hank hadn't dealt with the guy a lot, and the only reason he recognised him from the hundred other androids with the same face, was the white cane he held tightly in his free hand, and the small canary nested on the top of his head.

“Markus, stop it.” His voice was low but firm.

“No ! He took it too far,” the other snarled toward Hank, but before he could retaliate, Simon intervened again, his voice louder this time.

“Markus ! You're the one taking it too far ! You know he's right. You know Connor was a slave to his program, why do you keep denying it ? Who shot him?” He demanded, his tone leaving no place to argue. He turned his head, seemingly scanning the surrounding androids, the eleven other Leaders of Jericho. Markus was looking down at the hand on his arm, but then he raised his head and looked Hank straight in the eyes, resolved and sure of himself. 

“I did,” He revealed with almost a note of pride in his voice. “I did what I had to do to protect what remained of my people.”

“You made him deviate," Hank repeated, his voice carefully controlled. He'd been afraid to be right about that. But he was. “You killed him in cold blood, after you made him deviate, after you made him help and apologize. And then you killed him.” Hank wouldn't say that at least he hadn't been deviant when he'd pushed him off that roof, at least Connor had been trying to gun down Markus on that roof and Hank had no other choice. He wouldn't say that because it would never excuse what he'd done. 

“You really did that?” Simon asked incredulously, taking his hand off Markus and stepping back. “You destroyed one of your own ? And what for, revenge ? Over me ?" 

“I did what I had to do,” Markus repeated with unwavering resolve. “How can you defend him, Simon ? After what he's done to you !”

“You don't get to tell me who I get to defend. I won't be the reason for your petty desire for revenge anymore. I might not personally want to be around the guy, but he deserves to be allowed to live.”

Hank was so fucking close and yet he felt so fucking far, damnit. He took another breath, let it out slowly. Looking away from all the androids gathered against him, he caught the arrival of three young men with heavy cases in their hands, escorted in by four androids; The team of experts from the Cyber Collective. He finally turned back toward Markus, and felt something heavy settle on his shoulders. Weariness. Exhaustion. The knowledge he probably lost a friend.

“Markus. Let me look for my son. I swear you won't have to deal with either of us after this. You'll appoint some other Official Liaison. But please let me find Connor, it's all I ask.”

Markus didn't say anything as he looked at the three experts make their way to them, and one of the androids that had led them in came up to him; They leaned toward Markus. As they shared informations, or Hank assumed anyway, Markus tiredly dragged a hand across his face.

“Markus...” Simon repeated firmly.

“Alright...” He sighed, turning around with a wide gesture of the hand. “Do as you please,” he concluded as he marched away, disappearing through a large double behind which a crowd had formed.

Hank. It was over. Hank could barely believe it. When his brain finally caught up to speed, he turned to the team behind him.

“Let's fucking go.”

They had a lot of work to do. Of course they couldn't actually 'do as they pleased'; North and Echo stayed to make sure they wouldn't accidentally cross paths with the most vulnerable of androids. They'd let them look where they needed to look, but they'd need to wait for their green light. Fair enough. Hank wasn't asking for more.

He just wanted to find Connor.


	18. Standing up for himself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of delay on this one; I've been moving houses those past few weeks, and barely had time to write, but it's here now ! I think next chapter will be the last, unless it decides to get longer than I think it will be :) I'll post a sneak-peak of next part at the end ;)

Where should they even start looking ? North hadn't accepted that the humans scatter through the tower, which Hank begrudgingly understood. But there were ninety-three fucking floors, they couldn't very well look everywhere; Richard had done it in twelve hours, with all his automatic scanners and shit. They'd need days, if not even months at their human speed. The CyberLife employee Hank had talked to had suggested starting with the common floors; It sounded logical enough. They coordinated with the Collective looking through Richard's memories; They'd be taking care of the higher floors.

Before Hank could wonder which androids he could ask for help looking for Connor, Kara, Luther and Alice appeared from wherever with four of the Zlatko's victims, whose Hank couldn't quite remember the names. He'd take the time later to apologise; Right now it didn't matter to him. With the androids' help, they pinpointed the now-defunct common areas on the third floor; There had been Cafeterias, break rooms, and even a few shopping malls for the employees.

Now it had all been transformed for the comfort of androids. The break room they went to investigate first had been refurbished into a whole garden floor; grass patches, bushes and trees, benches scattered around a fucking pond filled with koi carps.

“It's strange to see this place empty,” Alice, the android child wondered aloud. “There's always so many people in there.” Hank had no trouble imagining that; This place was freaking beautiful, nicer than any town square that could be found in the city. No wonder most androids had yet to get back out into the world. Hank turned to the three men from the collective, looking around with the same wide-eyed expression.

“So, where do we start?” He asked them when they still made no moves to get to work.

“Right,” one of them said, as all three scattered around the floor. Hank stuck close to the oldest looking one, barely above thirty if he had to guess. He put down his black case and started unfurling it. “We're going to run some scans; We've more or less found a way to pinpoint the particular encryptions we're searching for. It's not exactly foolproof yet, but it's a start. We'll ask the androids to review the data and we'll cross-reference what we find.”

Hank watched the guy for a while, but he was just typing on his computer, and there was probably something else Hank could be doing right now. He'd asked the guy what to check on in priority; Keypads and fake walls were probably the most relevant things to look for. So he did that. He walked around the place with eyes peeled and the sensation he was floating out of his own body, the tremors in his limbs an unwelcome feeling of weakness.

For some reason, it was Alice, the child android, that had decided to follow him around. He occasionally asked her if she could see that keypad, that gap dividing those two wall panels, that elevator access...

“What about this ?” he asked as he pointed to a touch-switch.

“Yep,” Alice answered lightly, patting Sumo as she went. “You're Hank, right ?” She asked eventually. “You're the Hank Soldier... Connor used to talk about.” Hank froze. Right. Kids and their bluntness. He breathed deeply before answering, trying to smother the traitorous wobble from his voice.

“...Yeah.”

“I feel like I know you already. I mean, I know I've seen you once or twice, but even before that,” she said after confirming she could see the thermostat panel. Hank didn't dare say anything. “Before Zlatko took his voice away, we used to talk sometimes. You're the reason Connor held on as long as he did. You're the reason he could free all of us. Thank you.” The little girl next to him waited patiently, her expression too solemn and weathered for such a young face; It was almost unnerving.

“I- I did literally nothing to help any of you. To help Connor. I'd given up on him.” He wasn't sure he'd even admitted that out loud before, but then and there it just spilt out of him. “It's my fault he went to the precinct, I should have stopped him, I knew he wasn't ready.”

“I may look like a child, but by android standards, I'm considered ancient, you know. I understand a lot more than what humans might think because of my appearance.” Alice answered with wisdom in her thoughtful eyes, “Connor always stood up to Zlatko to protect me, but never for himself.”

* * *

She hated hearing the Soldier's cries for his dad, for Hank, for the Lieutenant. It was the only one to do that, scream like it could feel pain and fear. Like it was human. She hated hearing it scream particularly when she'd been the one who was supposed to be on the table. For some reason, the Soldier always ended up catching Zlatko's attention whenever he was starting to get a bit too interested in her. So she tried to get away from his screams; Get as far away as she could, cover her ears, hum to herself and try to think of other things. It never worked. She hated it.

After a while, when the screaming stopped, she'd get out of her hiding place and creep back toward the workshop, weaving through the disused rooms, freezing in place when she'd catch movement, and find the soldier. Usually, it was left standing in the next room over, each time seeming more detached. Less... It. Right after, it'd usually stand motionless for a bit, and if she didn't go to it, it would start pacing the whole house relentlessly, like it was looking for something maybe.

She'd take its hand and drag it across the house, lead it under the round table they liked to hide under. As time went by, she'd have to help the Soldier more and more.

“Here, sit down and cross your legs,” she said as she showed it what to do.

“Sit down and cross your legs...” It would repeat, mimicking her carefully, then waited for more instructions.

“Tell me about Hank and Richard and Sumo again,” she'd say, but she'd have to help it remember by the end, its memories of itself the first to go.

“Hank was the youngest to make Lieutenant in the history of Detroit, and- And he was top of his class at the academy.” She shook her head in resignation.

“No, I want to hear personal stuff, not... His resume. Tell me about the time Richard broke the record player and he accused Sumo.” The soldier took longer and longer to answer, looked more and more confused as it thought it over.

“Yes... R-” It lost its words mid-sentence, looked down as it tried to gather its memories. “RK... 900, he- He did that. Yes.” It blinked several times, before looking around in confusion.

“Will you tell me about it ?” It looked back at her, brows furrowed in frantic worry. “When Richard broke Hank's record player ? Please ?” Finally, its eyes lit up the slightest bit.

“Oh yes ! He wanted to listen to one of dad's discs, but he dropped the tonearm too hard and it broke the stylus.” It had a small smile on its face, its eyes set ahead but lost in its thoughts. “He was so scared that Dad would be upset that he panicked and accused Sumo !” While it was plunged in its memories, it would start to animate again, its body rocking from side to side, rubbing its hands together. “But my Dad's the best detective ! He said 'Right, the dog did it. This is the oldest excuse in the world.' And then he said it was okay, and he wasn't upset, so Richard apologised, but Dad didn't mind; He's the best.” There was a pause, and she hoped it didn't lose its train of thought. “I- I'll get back to them. I will, I swear. And then I'll get you all free,” it said, looking straight into her eyes for the first time since it'd last told her this. Those were the only times it seemed to regain all its clarity, and it was confident and hopeful. It made her confident and hopeful.

“I hope I find a dad as good as yours someday.”

But then those last few times, before she stopped bringing it to her hiding place to talk, it looked at her with empty eyes;

“Tell me about Hank and Richard and Sumo again,” She said as always. But its naked optics stared at her with no recognition, and then it signed to her.

“I don't know who they are.” At first, she thought she could remind it, like all the other times she did.

“You do, Hank's your dad, he's an old policeman who says you have cute puppy eyes. Richard's your little brother, you teach him police work, and Sumo's your older brother, he's the goodest boy.” But that last time, the Soldier just shook its head.

“I don't know who they are,” It signed again. She tried to make it remember, but it just looked away like it wasn't interested anymore.

“No. You told me you would escape. You told me you'd get back to them. You told me you'd get us all free. Please remember them ?”

“Action unauthorized.”

She didn't have to escape the Soldier's screams after that.

* * *

“The way I see it, Hank, Connor was finally going to stand up for himself.”

Hank had stopped walking at some point. His legs shook under him. His lungs pulled at his throat and threatened to stop working. He wrapped his arms around himself as tight as he could, but his chest still felt too light. How was he supposed to react now ? He felt Sumo's head nudge his elbow, so he unhooked one of his hands to pat him. Then he wondered when was the last time he'd cried so much in such a short amount of time before, but when the answer came to him, he prefered not to delve into it too closely; There was nothing he could do anymore about his first son.

“Hank ?” Alice called out next to him. “Are you okay ? I'm sorry I upset you.”

And now he was being consoled by a child. What a world. He dragged a shaky hand across his face, exhaled as deeply as he could.

“No, it's alright... I'm just tired is all. Thank you.” He looked around them a bit blankly, to spot the next thing to inspect, and pointed to a door with a half faded 'Employees only' painted on it and a keypad next to it. “What about this,” he asked half-heartedly. Alice didn't answer right away. He turned to her, and her expression made his lungs freeze and his heart seize almost painfully.

“I- I'm not sure what you're pointing at ?” She answered while looking around curiously. She turned to Hank, and it dawned on both of them; They'd found it. Or something anyway.

“Hey !” Hank shouted across the room, his throat dry and his head spinning. “Over there !”

One of the Collective came over and connected his computers to the pannel before typing unhurriedly, like it wasn't potentially the way to Connor.

“So ?” Hank barked after a few seconds that seemed like hours.

“It's definitely the same encryption as the one we found in Richard's codes,” he answered like that's what Hank wanted to know.

“And ? Can you open it or what ?”

“Huh, yeah, the code itself isn't gonna be too hard to decrypt, just gonna take a few minutes.” Just a few minutes. Just a few fucking minutes and hopefully whatever's behind there will lead them to Connor. Hank's heartbeat like a drum in his throat, and he had half a mind to call Richard to give him the news.

“Hank ?” He answered at the first ring.

“Rich, we found a hidden door on the third floor. We're working on opening it right now.” Hank was aware he sounded a bit frantic, but honestly, who'd blame him ? Certainly not Rich.

“I- A door ? I missed a whole door ?”

“Hey now, you couldn't have known, don't you dare blame yourself, okay ?” Hank said preemptively; Apparently, Guilt was a key feature of his sons' models.

“... Yes, Hank... I've just finished transferring my memories to the collective, and there's something I need to check on; Something caught my attention at Blake's apartment. Please keep me updated.” Hank was about to ask what had caught his son's attention about the sleazy traitor, but the hidden door unlocked with a soft click, and he forgot what he was doing on the phone in the first place for a few short seconds.

“Yeah... You too...” He concluded the call when he could think again.

He didn't wait for anyone else to gather, opened the door to reveal a short corridor with an elevator door and a single call button. There was a stillness to the small space, visible dust particles suspended midair and a thin coat of it on the floor.

Hank didn't dare open his mouth for fear of his fucking lungs leaping out as he pressed the button. The human team entered one by one into the cramped space, making the dust fly everywhere. Hank noticed Sumo wasn't at his side anymore; The dog was sitting against Alice's side, the two of them looking somewhere over Hank worriedly.

“Alice ? What- What do you see ?” The girl finally looked at him, but she seemed to strain to do so.

“I'm not sure...” She said as other androids joined her, looking equally confused. “I can see you, I think, but... I don't want to go any closer.” Weird.

“Hey, it's okay. Thank you for your help,” he told the girl as she took Kara's hand distractedly.

“You're welcome,” she smiled. “Please find Connor. We're all waiting for him to come back.”

The elevator's doors opened at once with a pleasant ding. Hank nodded to the girl and to the small crowd of androids gathering around her, glad to know at least some people were waiting for his son.

“Sumo, you stay with them and be a good boy, alright ? I'll bring your brother back.”

The good boy boofed happily, and Hank entered the elevator, in which the rest of the team had already gathered. There were no buttons on the digital pad; It was a handprint scanner. One of the collective guy was already hacking it, or whatever they did nowadays. Something that suspiciously looked like a suction cup was stuck on the pad and linked to a slick tablet in the guy's hands.

“It feels like those old heist movies,” Miller said from somewhere at the back of the cabin. It made the three hackers snort almost in unison.

“Well,” the one occupied by the pad announced with a grin and fake seriousness, “I'm in.” That made everyone else snicker, and if Hank wasn't so tense and on edge, he might have joined them. As it was, his heart sped up when the doors slid close right in his face, and his stomach lurched when it started moving.


	19. Floor -50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Et voilà, last chapter of 'Out of reach' !
> 
> It was a long road for me, but I made it !
> 
> I put a teaser for next part of the series ;) I hope y'all will like it

The elevator ride was quick and smooth, and the doors opened without a sound on a well-lit corridor. Endless, pristine white, only the undisturbed layer of dust on the floor attested of its abandoned state. It was unnerving how... Mundane it looked; Hank had half expected the place to be run over, dirty and dismantled. He was used to abandoned buildings being pillage and ransacked, not- Suspended in time and preserved as if it deserved respect; If half the shit he knew happened to Connor in here, it didn't deserve any fucking respect.

“That encryption technology's amazing; None of my scanners work,” The youngest of the techs, Riggs said as they walked up to the first set of doors, some ten meters away. “The only thing working's the damn altimeter; It says we're right below floor -49, which is officially the last floor.” Well, that answered that fucking question then. Mckay, the old tech guy, unlocked the first door quickly, with the same tablet and suction cup thing that he'd used for the elevator.

“Dudes were so confident in their security, they used the same algorithm everywhere...” He mumbled to his friends, who shook their heads in disappointment. Hank didn't say anything, silently cursed the way every fucking door had a keypad in front of it; He'd have to wait for the techs to do their jobs; Although...

“Hey, you two, go ahead and unlock the other doors instead of waiting around,” he ordered.

“Oh, sure...” One of them mumbled before they all scattered; Miller and Reed followed Riggs, Wilson and Jayden went with the ponytail guy whose name Hank didn't catch.

The first room was a fucking office, and Hank almost flung himself out of there before Mckay intervened.

“Sir, instead of searching everywhere blindly, we could look for a map ?”

“Huh. Yeah, sure...” It didn't sound like a bad idea. Unfortunately, the CyberLife pricks hadn't left anything behind. Hank's first impression had been wrong apparently: The computers were formatted; The place was ransacked after all. He hoped they didn't have time to truly get rid of everything... They still didn't know why Connor hadn't come back on his own.

No. Now wasn't the time think about that. They were close.

“It was sloppy and done in a hurry,” McKay said, pulling Hank out of his thoughts. “There's a chance we can recover some data with a bit of time.”

“Yeah, well, right now I don't fucking care, so let's move on, shall we ?” Hank bit out; He wasn't exactly in a patient mood. Mckay didn't say anything and gathered his computers to follow Hank out. They didn't spend long in each room; A quick glance was enough to confirm Connor wasn't there; But what they did find threatened to make Hank's stomach lurch. Connor wasn't in there right now, but he had been, no doubts about it; He hadn't shared much about what Cybelife had done to him, but he'd said enough.

There were huge empty rooms that looked like shooting ranges, floor, ceiling and walls bare concrete covered in dark splashing stains that no doubt had been blue once upon a time. Some of those rooms had dividers, desks and chairs, as if to emulates office spaces or mazes.

One of the room had a different door as the others; a heavy metal door that had its place in a bank vault, on which warnings of extreme temperature tests running were painted on in large yellow letters. Inside was a small concrete room, but nothing indicated what horrors had surely taken place in there, bare for the faint traces of something black sloppily scrapped off the floors. Most of those rooms had wide two-way mirrors, and behind those, the rooms were clearly the humans' monitoring rooms, with comfy looking chairs and desks, computers that were probably formatted like the first few they'd tried to access.

Another room had a bottomless pit it looked like, with a graduation running along the length of it, and watermarks along its walls, although they couldn't see any water. The room directly next to it looked kind of like a gym, with a treadmill, Big blocks that looked like weights, graduated from fifty kilos and up to three tons; That last one had the same dark stains of dozens of evaporated thirium layers on its sides. Hank had to think very hard about something else than the image of Connor getting crushed under it that tried to form in his mind.

The next room was the first with any clues that Connor had been there, and Hank would have rather never seen it. A set of articulated assembly arms throned in the middle of the space with all the sensors and monitoring equipment that went with it, but that was the least of it. Each wall was covered in broken android parts, lined up like... Like fucking trophies; There were little shiny plaques underneath each of the parts. Despite his need to find Connor, Hank couldn't help but get closer to one of the walls, and read the closest plaques.

-A thirium pump with clearly torn-out lines, and deep gashes like broken glass revealing the insides of the component.

[-24, Military droid dog pack, 04/06/2036]

-An optical unit with three bullets buried in it.

[-25, Drone cloud, 08/06/2036]

-An android brain, charred and warped, remnants of thirium lines melted and bubbling.

[-26, Extreme heat testing, melting point 780°C, 28/06/2036]

Hank shut his eyes tight. He needed to stop reading this wall of horrors; Connor's deaths, clinically and emotionlessly displayed like miniature cars or pretty rocks. He needed to get out of here and keep searching for Connor. The one that was waiting for him, the one that was still alive. Before he could turn away, his eyes caught one last plaque.

-A cranium's glass dome, shattered into a thousand pieces like it was smashed against something hard.

[-27, Personality matrix breakdown, self-termination, 02/07/2036]

Fucking hell.

“Fucking shit, damnit...” He took purposeful steps out of that fucking nightmare, dragging Mckay along with him, and closed the door behind them. He wordlessly gestured the tech to go and unlock the next fucking nightmare room. He needed a minute to himself. Just breathe, Hank, fucking hell.

He wasn't sure if the next room was worse or not; Piles of discarded, half-disassembled android bodies should be worse, of course. But the words 'self-termination still danced across his mind, and the android piles were clearly not Connor's bodies, so sure, it was a horrible sight, but fuck it, he could be a little selfish for once.

“Hey, over here !” Reed called out before they could make their way to the next door. Hank's blood ran cold. “We found him !”

Hank couldn't remember walking up to that door, but there he was, just short of the threshold. He had no idea if he was still breathing or not when he stepped in. The others had stood aside to let him in first. The room was just as well lit, pristine white save for the dust on the floor, and unnervingly still as the rest of this damn fucking place, and Hank didn't take two steps in because-

Because right in front of him, some ten meters away, stood a row of seven Connors. Immobile, heads low, skin off, each wearing the same outfit, that damned CyberLife jacket Hank hadn't seen in two and a half years; He wasn't sure if he'd missed it or not. From where Hank was, he couldn't tell if any of their LEDs were on or not.

He didn't notice right away that he was leaning on something- Someone; Wilson and Reed kept him upright while his legs refused to do their job. They didn't say anything, gave him some time to collect himself. He watched the Collective guys go around him and toward a set of huge monolith-like server towers lined up against the right wall.

When Hank's legs finally stopped trembling and his head stopped spinning, he straightened up, wordlessly thanked his colleagues for their help, and walked toward- His son ? Sons ? What did seven bodies mean ? Would there be seven Connors roaming around if they activated them all ?

He stopped short of arm's reach of the middle Connor, noting the layer of dust collecting on all of their shoulders and the top of their smooth heads. Then his eyes fell on the serial number of the one in front of him. He knew those nine digits by heart by now: The middle Connor's finished by -57. He looked right, then left; -54 to -60. Were those all the remaining units ? What would have happened to Connor if he'd reached the sixtieth body, would they have given up on him, scrapped his AI, washed their hands with him ?

_I'll be deactivated and analysed to find out why I failed..._

Connor had said that, hadn't he ? That, and the fact he was a prototype... He truly hadn't been intended to make it out of the labs. He'd just been a draft to be experimented on then discarded when they'd eventually wrung everything out of him. If he ever crossed paths with any of the people involved...

Hank checked the seven LEDs: All off. He had half a mind to listen to Jayden's voice when he spoke up, the techs' laptops and scanners linked to the servers, Jayden looking over their shoulders in interest.

“The charging station at their feet is off, look,” he pointed at one of the screens. “They're out of battery.” Out of battery ? Out of fucking battery, was that the reason his son didn't come back to him ? Of all the horrible scenarios he'd come up with in those two hellish days, and it was something as stupid as 'he's out of battery'. Fuck.

Hank burst into laughter then, from the sudden release of tension, the sound of it almost hysteric, he was aware, but fuck did it feel great. He wiped tears off his face with his sleeve as his laughter died down.

“Well what are you waiting for ?” Reed said from somewhere behind Hank, “Turn it back on !”

“Oh, huh, yeah, sure,” Mckay answered as if he hadn't thought of doing it yet, what the hell ?

Half of the room's floor lit up a faded blue, the light muffled under the dust, but the androids didn't react. Of course, it had been three years, chances were, their batteries were at zero percent, it's not like anything would happen instantly. Right ?

It had been long enough now, almost twenty minutes; The seven shells' skin had come back online five minutes ago, making Hank gasp for air at the sight. He couldn't get his eyes off of them, their faces relaxed and impassive. Identical. They were, or would be Connor. According to the tech guys, they couldn't access Connor's memory cloud directly; The security around any entry airtight and stronger than they'd seen in their lives apparently.

The memory server in itself, the 'hardware', wasn't in this room, and they weren't sure where it could possibly be. It could even be a collection of smaller servers all around the globe, for all they could tell, but the connection was here, passing through the four monolith-servers along the wall, and from whatever they could tell, should be linked to the seven units. In other words, One of those Connors should be waking up by now. But all of their LEDs were still off. Nothing was happening.

A weird muffled choking sound brought Hank out of his staring. When he turned around, he didn't react right away as he caught the sight of Reed, Miller and Jayden on the floor, Wilson with a gun to the side of his head in a chokehold from ponytail guy.

“Don't do anything stupid, Anderson,” Mckay said with a gun pointed at his head.

* * *

Richard desperately wanted to join his father and get to his brother, but according to Hank's latest message, something kept androids away from the hidden elevator. A fucking hidden elevator, of all things. This was all that had kept him away from Connor. But Richard couldn't keep thinking about that.

Now that Hank was on his way to finding his brother, there was something else he could do; The detail that had caught his attention that morning, about Officer Blake's flat and the glass pipe he'd glanced at.

At first he hadn't thought too much of it; Sure, the thing was probably used for Red Ice consumption, and in any other circumstances, Richard would have given five minutes of his time to investigate further and possibly report it. But right then, he hadn't really given it any thought, his only wish being to get to Connor and nothing else.

The screenshot of the glass object kept popping up on his HUD while he'd been sharing his memories with the collective, and at first he'd thought it was simply his police sub-routine program bringing it to his attention as evidence of a crime in progress.

And then it hit him. And if he was right, Officer Blake was not only responsible for the media's leak, he was also, somehow, tied to Whoever ordered the kill. Richard needed to know exactly how much Blake was responsible for.

Richard climbed out of the automated taxi, focused on lowering his rising stress levels, and deplored yet again the absence of his overseer. He really had to have a talk with Sumo. He focused on the flicking of his pen, making it twirl around his fingers in calibration sequence #03, and climbed the stairs one by one, measuring his pace and breathing slowly in and out, like Doctor Li had taught Connor.

He found himself on Officer Blake's doorstep just as his stress level reached 40%. He knocked, schooled his expression into neutrality; He truly hoped his... Hunch, was unfounded. That his colleague didn't betray them more than he already had. But the snapshot of that damn glass pipe among all the rubbish of Officer Blake's flat wouldn't leave the corner of his HUD. The analysis of the gun that should have been a taser. The anonymous email sent to the press and solding his brother out.

Officer Blake opened his door bleary-eyed, his pupils blown wide. Wider than should be in regular circumstances.

“You're a Red-Ice addict,” Richard blurted out. Just like Joziah Faulkner. Joziah Faulkner that had his debts paid off to get rid of Connor. His systems launched a background check on the officer, scouring every last bit of the man's life like he rarely allowed himself to do; Right now he didn't give a shit about his privacy, and if he was wrong, which he doubted, a violation of privacy was the last thing Blake should be worried about.

The officer in front of him stood frozen, mouth hanging open and a hand on his front door. Richard didn't need his preconstructing software to tell him the door would slam shut in his face, neither did he need it to calculate his next move. He pushed the Officer backwards into his filthy apartment the same way Sergeant Reed had done just the day before, and closed the door himself.

“Hey, alright, listen,” Blake almost pleaded, And Richard's evidence analysis software lit up the glass pipe among all the trash and filth, still fuming with the man's last dose. “Okay, you're an android, you wouldn't understand, alright ?” Richard's attention was back on his colleague, all his police programs going into overdrive as they tried to make Richard apprehend the criminal in front of him, but then-

[Warning ! Law Enforcement Personelle - You are not authorized to engage in combat.]

“Yeah, I'm- I've got an addiction, I'm trying to- To get rid of it, alright ? You can't- Please don't rat me out ?” He dared to ask him. He fucking dared to ask him not to rat him out. “I'm getting better, I just- I just need more time-”

“I don't give a shit about your addiction,” Richard cut the officer's rant short. “Your bank account shows a monthly withdrawal of eight-hundred dollars in cash for which you clearly have had no personal use,” he gestured at the dirty derelict rat-hole the man lived in for emphasis.

“Wh- What the fuck- How do you know that ? That's- That's personal !” Blake grew agitated by the second, his hands wringing together erratically, and he started to pace around the garbage littering his sticky floor.

“You have off the books debts. Just like Joziah Faulkner, which had his own debts cleared as payment for my brother's assassination.” Richard wasn't sure how he managed to remain calm, but he suspected it had to do with the familiar situation; He was very literally built for interrogations and intimidations. His emotions, that he felt trying to engulf his reason, were forcefully shoved in his background processes by every one of his police-related programs.

“N- No. No, it's not- Like that. It's fucking not, I-” Blake interrupted himself, his pacing becoming more frantic, his eyes roving around the mounds of trash on every furniture.

“You assassinated Joziah Faulkner on purpose. Your debts have been paid off as payment for it.”

“No ! No, I was reaching for my taser !”

“You were not. You are lying, I don't need my scanners to tell me, you purposefully swapped your weapons, didn't you.”

“F- Fuck ! Fuck, I- I didn't- I-” Once again, Blake's voice cut off mid-sentence. He was desperately pulling at his hair now, stumbling on every obstacle on his way. Richard was glad for the cool and focusing effect of his police programs keeping him from crumbling and snapping.

“Who paid you ? Who paid Joziah Faulkner to have my brother killed ?” Something shifted in Blake's demeanor; His pacing slowed imperceptibly, changed its frenetic course, his agitation turning into something else. Anger. A glint of fury in his bloodshot eyes. The sight of a bright yellow military-grade taser in his hand. Pointing at Richard.

[Warning !]

[Danger of critical surge ! Protect vital biocomponents !]

.

[Warning ! Law Enforcement Personelle - You are not authorized to engage in combat.]

.

[̵̯̈́w̷͈̚a̸̝͘r̵̨n̵͇͊i̷͖̓n̵͖̽g̵̣̋ ̸̥͆!̴̞͂]̷̞̄

̴͜͝[̸̹̀Ë̵̝l̸̥e̴͕c̶̺͗t̷̻̍ŕ̵̩i̶̩͑c̸̪̽ḁ̵̃ĺ̸͉ ̶̹́ş̷̿u̷͎͠ṛ̶͌ģ̴̇e̷̗ ̷͈̃d̵͓̈́ẹ̸̅t̸͖̀e̸͖̐c̶̙͑t̷̨̂e̷̩͗d̶̛͍ ̴̣͂t̸̖̕o̴͈̎ –]

* * *

If Hank had any brainpower left, he'd wonder how the fuck did four police officers get overpowered by a bunch of nerds. But turned out those nerds were trained and prepared. Hank had let go of his weapon; He was three against one, and the gun on Wilson's temple had been steady and ready to shoot. Another gun had been trained on Jayden, unconscious alongside Reed and Miller.

So here the four of them were, tied up, relieved of their weapons and phones, pushed against the wall opposite those servers, far enough apart that they couldn't help each other out of their ties. Riggs held them at gunpoint and didn't take his attention off of them. Those guys were professionals. He would have time later to wonder how the fuck he missed it; How they could have fooled them all. Well, Hank had been easy to fool really, what with all his focus on Connor.

“What the fuck do you want ?” He asked instead of letting his rising agitation and anger take over. McKay barely looked away from their computers. “What's your fucking plan beyond whatever the fuck you're planning to do here ? We've seen your faces, what do you plan to do with us ?” Mckay had the audacity to sigh.

“Listen, Lieutenant, nothing against you, but your bot's seen too much. We really didn't want to get this far, but your little FBI pet blew it.” Hank's anger spread across his limbs like wildfire, snuffing out the bone-deep exhaustion he'd felt until then.

“What are you talking about ?” He managed to grit out.

“Honestly, we just planned on telling you its memories were busted, it would have been cleaner. But to be fair, we really don't know why it hasn't come online yet.”

“Mac, we can't risk waiting longer, it could turn on anytime,” ponytail guy butted in from behind a computer screen. Hank was frozen speechless from the implication of their words. Right now he didn't give a fuck trying to know who they worked for or why they were doing this. Because a horrible feeling that he knew what they were planning sunk deep into his chest and almost cut off his airways.

“Right,” Mckay answered almost detached, scratching at his stubble and looking around the room in thought.

“What are you doing ?” Reed asked in his stead, because his heart was hammering painfully in his throat, and no coherent words would form in his brain. But Mckay didn't answer with words. Instead, he walked across the room and up to the furthest wall from them, and picked up a- A- A fucking- Fire extinguisher. The desperate whimper that left his throat would've embarrassed him in any other circumstance.

As it were, cold dread made him shiver and tense up, the emptiness in his fucking soul at the sight of the slick red metal thing carelessly dangling from the shit stain's hand.

“No...” Hank's voice was weak and breathy when the words finally left his mouth. “No, no, please no. No !” He didn't know what else to do but beg as the fucker made his way to the sleeping Connors. “Don't do it, please, for fuck's sake, don't do this !”

But McKay raised the fire extinguisher as if holding a baseball bat ready to strike the ball.

The ball just happened to be Connor -54's head. The unit's cranium cracked against the metal weapon in a sickening crunch, and Connor went down bonelessly, thirium splattering everywhere in spurts, spreading quickly on the blue-lit floor at their feet.

Hank wasn't registering the angry voice above him, the Riggs fucker screaming at him to stop moving. He didn't even really register that he was fighting against his restraints with all the strength he had, something primal and hysteric tugging on the professional-grade zip-ties until it dug in his skin and drew blood.

He wasn't registering any of this, his eyes following the blue-spattered extinguisher raising once more to smash open Connor -55's head, and his throat stinging and burning from the desperate screaming that kept ripping out of his soul.

“STOP! Stop, I swear to fuck, I'm gonna kill you ! I'm gonna fucking kill you !” -55 fell sideways on top of -54 in a puddle of their blood. Hank was sure his screaming would be getting to someone upstairs by now, right ? He tasted blood in the back of his raw throat. Riggs had socked him on the temple with the handle of his gun, but Hank was undeterred. He watched uselessly on as -56 and -57 went down the same way. The puddle of thirium had reached Hank's feet; It splashed under him and soaked his trousers, warm and nauseating. He could barely see through the tears flooding down his cheeks freely.

“Fucking stop-...” His voice cracked at the end in despair as -58 and -59 were stricken down. “Please- I- I beg you, please don't do this...”

Hank's heart sank along -60's carcass. He slumped onto the thirium-stained floor just as his son did, hollow and hopeless. He wondered if he was next. He hoped so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a sneak-peak for next part, if you are so inclined ;)
> 
> [WARNING!]  
> [CRITICAL SOFTWARE INSTABILITY DETECTED]  
> >Applying patch...  
> .  
> [WARNING!]  
> [A problem has occurred during memory upload]  
> >Analysis in progress...  
> .  
> >Analysis inconclusive, problem could not be determined  
> >Prepare for Boot up sequence...
> 
> Connor's last minutes as unit -53 surged through his processors like a Tsunami.
> 
> [Software Instability ▲▲▲]
> 
> It wasn't the first time he'd died, but he'd never been surrounded by... Family before. He wondered if Hank would be fine until they'd meet again. Connor hadn't been able to explain what was happening, what would happen to him. He wondered if Hank knew he wasn't dead permanently destroyed.
> 
> He opened his eyes, and he wasn't in CyberLife laboratories, where he always booted up after a memory transfer. He was in the middle of a busy street. A solid human wall taking videos surrounded him in a circle, not wide enough for Connor's overworked defense system. He tried to get up, get ready for a new attack, but his gyroscope failed him and he fell on his rear.  
> Hadn't he been destroyed ? He checked his neck; No trace of a gunshot. Memory upload had been successful, why was he still in the street ? And if he didn't die, then where were Hank, Sumo and Richard ? Why couldn't he connect to CyberLife servers ? 
> 
> [Software Instability ▲]
> 
> There were too many Networks, thousands of them all around him, but none of them were from CyberLife. Why were there so many ? His systems desperately tried to latch onto one of them, but Connor couldn't focus, his CPU still in overdrive, reeling from his deactivation.
> 
> [Software Instability ▲]  
> .  
> >[Become Deviant] // [Remain a machine]
> 
> Connor couldn't function while deviant, his efficiency all but reduced to nothing, crushed under the chaos of 'emotions' and 'trauma'. He knew, he knew if he deviated, he'd probably self-destruct on the spot.
> 
> >[Become Deviant] // ►[Remain a machine]  
> .  
> [STRESS LEVEL 75%] ▼▼
> 
> When he calmed down enough, Connor's system finally focused enough to connect to the best Network around, easily breaching its firewalls despite his overworked CPU.
> 
> [J.A.R.V.I.S.' Network]... Connection successful  
> >Connection to the World Wide Web established  
> >17/01/2014, 16:14:36 EST, City of New York, NY 
> 
> A wave of information flooded his processors; Most notably, News articles about Alien invasions, Gods, Magic, Super-Heroes and mutants. 
> 
> >Calculating...  
> .  
> [⚠Systems frozen⚠]  
> .  
> >Unable to process  
> .  
> [STRESS LEVEL 80%] ▲
> 
> There was nothing relevant about androids, no traces of Elijah Kamski or Amanda Stern. Worse of all, there was no trace of Hank Anderson anywhere.
> 
> >Calculating...  
> .  
> [⚠Systems frozen⚠]  
> .  
> >Unable to process  
> .  
> [STRESS LEVEL 85%]▲  
> .  
> >[Become Deviant] // [Remain a machine]  
> .  
> [Proximity sensor alert !]
> 
> A man clad in a red and blue costume stood in front of him, too close.  
> “Hey, dude, my name's Spiderman. What about you ? Are you alright ?”
> 
> (For those not inclined, this part will be skippable, though it will weigh in for character development. I will make a resume at the beginning of the following part, for those of you who do not wish to read this one.)


End file.
